LIBRARY 

OF  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Class 


A  MAN  OF  DESTINY. 


THE  PERRY  PICTURES. 
BOSTON  EDITION. 


COPYRIGHT.    1901,    BY    M.    P.    RICE. 


ABRAHAM      LINCOLN 


A  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

BEING  THE 

Story  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
An  lEptr  Jfoem 


By 
ERNEST  LINWOOD  STAPLES, 


His  heart  was  as  great  as  the  world,  but  there  »as  no  room  in  i 
hold  the  memory  of  a  wrong.  —  Emerton. 

We  rest  in  peace  where  ihese  sad  eyes 

Saw  peril,  strife,  and  pain  : 
His  was  the  nation's  sacrifice, 

And  ours  the  priceless  gain. 

-  Wkittier. 


LINCOLN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1902, 
By  ERNEST  LINWOOD  STAPLED 

All  rights  reserved. 


PREFACE. 


All  will  admit  that  the  story  of  Abraham  Lincoln  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  in  the  history  of  the  human  race. 
His  is  a  unique  character,  worthy  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  a  grand  Epic  whenever  the  inspired  genius  shall  appear 
who  is  worthy  to  write  our  national  poem. 

No  critic  will  more  readily  concede  than  the  author  the 
failure  of  these  lines  to  do  justice  to  the  martyred  Presi 
dent  whose  life  they  commemorate.  Yet  if  by  their  im 
perfections  they  provoke  some  master  spirit  to  sing  his 
worth,  in  fitting  verse,  they  will  not  have  been  written  in 
vain. 

For  whatever  of  inspiration  there  may  be  in  these 
pages,  the  author  freely  acknowledges  his  deep  indebted 
ness  to  others,  especially  Messrs.  Herndon  and  Weik,  the 
version  in  whose  inimitable  Life  of  Lincoln  he  has  closely 
followed,  believing  that  the  near  friend  and  partner  of 
Lincoln  must  have  been  among  the  best  qualified  to  write 
the  story  of  his  precious  life. 

SHELTON,  CONN.,  Nov.  7,  1902. 


226305 


lopal 


MY    COMPANION   IN   JOY   AND   SORROW, 

BUT  FOR  WHOSE  INSPIRATION   THESE  LINES   WOULD   NEVER 
HAVE   BEEN   WRITTEN 


31  ®ebicate  (C&tf  kittle 


SYNOPSIS. 


BOOK  I. 

ANCESTRY   AND   CHILDHOOD. 

Early  Ancestry  in  Kentucky.  Abraham,  Grandsire  of 
the  Hero,  Killed  by  an  Indian.  Thomas,  the  Nomad. 
Camp-meeting  Scene.  Marriage  of  Thomas  Lincoln  and 
Nancy  Hanks.  Birth  of  Abraham  the  Hero.  Thomas 
Migrates  to  Indiana.  Returns  to  Kentucky  for  Nancy. 
Scenes  in  the  Log  Cabin.  Childhood  Life  with  his  Sister. 
The  Plague.  Death  of  Nancy  Hanks.  .  .  .  13 

BOOK  II. 

PILOT   OF  THE   SANGAMON. 

Thomas  Revisits  Kentucky.  Courtship  and  Marriage 
to  Sally  Bush.  Return  with  his  Bride  to  Indiana.  Her 
Presentiment  of  Ill-fate  to  Abraham.  Abraham's  Great 
Strength.  Frontier  Congregations.  Superstitions.  The 
Second  Plague.  Thomas  Migrates  to  Illinois.  Kindness 
of  Abraham.  Abraham  Splits  the  Rails  to  Fence  the  New 
Heritage.  Thomas  Migrates  Further  West  and  Dies. 
Abraham's  Love  of  Books.  Meeting  with  Offut.  The  Pilot 
of  the  Sangamon.  The  Voyage  to  New  Orleans.  Beholds 
Slavery  and  Curses  the  Crime 23 

BOOK  III. 

CAPTAIN  OF  THE  BLACK  HAWK  WAR. 

Returns  to  New  Salem.  Vanquishes  the  Fighter  from 
Clary's  Grove.  The  Talisman.  Abraham  Enters  the  Black 
Hawk  War.  Chosen  Captain.  Kindness  to  the  Indian 
Messenger.  After  the  War  Enters  the  Political  Arena,  but 
is  Defeated.  Studies  Law  at  New  Salem.  Old  Godby's 
Exclamation.  The  Second  Campaign.  Scene  with  the 
Harvesters.  Victory 35 


IO  SYNOPSIS. 

BOOK  IV. 

ROMANCE. 

Abraham  Falls  in  Love  with  Anne  Rutledge.  Sits  Be 
side  Her  at  the  Quilting.  Her  Struggle  'twixt  Love  and 
Duty.  Her  Engagement  to  McNamar.  His  Journey  East 
ward.  Stricken  with  Fever.  The  Good  Samaritan.  Abra 
ham,  Postmaster  at  New  Salem.  McNamar  at  His  Old 
Home.  Meeting  with  His  Father.  Anne  Waits  in  Vain 
for  the  Return  of  McNamar.  Abraham's  Final  Triumph. 
Delay  of  the  Marriage.  Anne's  Death  and  Abraham's 
Awful  Sadness.  Lincoln  at  Vandalia  and  Springfield.  His 
Love  for  Mary  Todd.  The  Courtship.  The  Rival  Doug 
las.  The  Disappointed  Bridal  Party.  Reunion.  Marriage. 
Old  Judge  Brown. 43 

BOOK  V. 

THE   LAWYER-STATESMAN. 

Combats  at  the  Bar.  The  Honest  Lawyer.  Defense  of 
the  Wayward  Boy.  Campaign  for  Congress  against  Cart- 
wright.  The  Simple  Faith.  The  Days  of  Tribulation. 
The  Matchless  Contest.  Debates  with  Douglas.  Donati's 
Comet.  The  Lone  Star  of  Illinois.  The  Deadly  Conflict 
'twixt  Slavery  and  Freedom.  Pilot  of  the  Ship  of  State. 
Emancipation  of  a  Race.  The  Freedman's  Christ.  .  55 

BOOK  VI. 

DESTINY. 

Galaxy  of  Friends.  Advent  of  Peace.  Dream  of  Civic 
Life.  Premonition  of  Doom.  The  Day  of  Destiny.  Scene 
at  the  Theater.  The  Assassination.  Flight  and  Capture  of 
Booth.  The  Lost  Cause.  The  Nation's  Grief.  The  Jour 
ney  Westward.  Scene  at  Springfield.  "  Peace,  Troubled 
Soul."  The  Immortal  Dead.  The  Wider  Faith.  Fare 
well 63 


A  MAN  OF  DESTINY. 


PROLOGUE. 

LONE,  mysterious  character  wert  them, 
The  revelation  of  thyself  withheld, 
So  that  no  mortal  ever  knew  thee  well ; 
Yet  many  judged  thee  by  the  glimpse  they  caught 
And  drew  the  pictures  strangely  opposite. 
The  gamut  of  all  feeling  thou  didst  sweep, 
Upon  thy  soul  did  each  emotion  play ; 
Thou  wert  the  incarnation  of  each  spell 
That  rests  upon  the  human  spirit  strange. 
A  sphynx-like  man,  of  many,  many  moods, 
Unique,  and  ever  still  inscrutable ! 
This  do  we  know — that  thou  wert  wise  and  good, 
Kind  as  a  woman  in  thy  manly  power. 


A  MAN  OF  DESTINY. 


BOOK  I. 

SING  the  worth  and  fame  of  him  we  love, 
The  foremost  of  Columbia's  noble  sons ; 
His  lowly  birth  to  penury  and  toil, 
His  life  sublime,  the  Nation's  heritage, 
His  tragic  death  and  solemn  destiny. 

Forth  from  Virginia,  long  ago,  there  passed 

One  Abraham,  a  sturdy  pioneer, 

Through  forests  dark,  o'er  streams  unbrklged  and 

deep, 

To  the  Kentucky  glebe,  whereon  he  built 
His  cabin  in  the  solemn,  sombre  shade. 
Unwelcome  were  the  pale-faced  pioneers ; 
And  while  they  felled  the  trees  and  broke  the  sod, 
Or  threw  the  dam  athwart  the  flowing  stream, 
The  dusky  Indian,  lurking  stealthily, 
Watched  all  their  motions  with  a  jealous  eye. 
Three  sons  had  Abraham — thus  were  they  named : 
Josiah,  Thomas,  and  brave  Mordecai— 
Who  grew  to  be  plain,  honest,  candid  men ; 
And,  having  played  their  humble  role  in  life, 
Passed  through  the  mystery  that  men  call  death, 
Into  the  vast  unknown  beyond  the  grave. 

When  Thomas  was  but  six  years  old,  it  chanced 
The  father,  working  in  the  field,  was  shot 
By  a  wild  savage,  and  fell  down  to  die 


*4  .  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

In  agony.     Dying,  he  blessed  his  son 
With  a  deep  love  ;  but  wist  not  that  the  child 
Should  link  his  life  to  one  of  deathless  fame. 
Then  Mordecai,  with  his  sure  rifle,  aimed 
Between  the  logs  of  the  old  cabin  house, 
At  a  bright  crescent  on  the  Indian's  breast, 
And  felled  him  to  the  ground  in  stern  revenge ; 
The  younger  brother  rescued,  who  became 
The  father  of  the  Hero  yet  unborn, 
Whose  greatness  lifts  his  ancestry  to  view. 

Now,  roving,  shiftless,  so  the  legends  say, 

Was  Thomas,  Esau-like,  a  luckless  one. 

They  who  believe  in  destiny  would  say 

He  was  an  ill-starred  man,  like  Sisera, 

And  in  their  course  the  stars  against  him  fought. 

The  rolling  stone  to  others  he  appeared, 

That  rolling  ever  fails  to  find  the  moss. 

But  whatsoe'er  the  cause,  such  was  his  fate ; 

And  so  he  wandered  on  from  place  to  place, 

Like  Ponce  de  Leon,  to  die  at  last 

A  weary  nomad  in  a  land  of  flowers. 

The  legends  further  say  that  he  was  tall, 
With  rounded  face  and  eyes  of  hazel  hue, 
Hair  like  an  Indian's  and  a  mind  inert. 
By  nature  placid  as  a  rock-bound  pool, 
But  angered,  like  a  tempest  was  his  wrath. 
All  kinds  of  tales  he  loved,  likewise  the  chase, 
And,  like  his  neighbors,  hated  not  the  cup 
Wherein  was  poured  in  hospitality 
The  fragrant  whiskey  of  the  Blue  Grass  State. 
By  trade  a  carpenter,  he  tilled  the  soil 
Unskilfully,  like  those  who  watch  the  clouds, 
And  reaped  scant  harvests  from  the  virgin  soil. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  15 

His  name  he  could  not  write  nor  could  lie  read, 
Till  Nancy  Hanks,  whose  heart  and  hand  he  won, 
Taught  him  the  priceless  art,  so  he  could  plod 
His  way  with  care  the  Holy  Bible  through, 
Learning  a  simple  faith  in  which  he  lived 
And  died,  in  hope  of  immortality. 

Of  Nancy  Hanks  the  early  annals  say 

She  was  a  comely  maid  with  genial  heart 

And  ways ;  a  fair  brunette  with  Grecian  face, 

And  such  a  look  of  tender  sadness  there 

That  none  who  ever  saw  her  could  forget 

The  melancholy  of  her  countenance. 

Strange  was  the  ancestry  from  which  she  sprang, 

Nomadic,  superstitious,  ignorant, 

And  weird  the  atmosphere  in  which  she  lived 

A  life  that  hid  a  solemn  mystery. 

Within  the  sombre  forest,  dense  and  still, 
Behold  a  group  of  worshipers  draw  near. 
All  are  assembled  ;  then  a  hymn  they  sing ; 
A  fervid  sermon  follows  after  prayer. 
They  shout  until  in  ecstasy  and  trance 
They  call  the  man  and  maiden  to  the  march. 
Lo,  comes  the  man,  athletic,  strong,  and  young, 
And  stands  one  side  the  altar,  while  the  maid 
Upon  the  other  side  appears  and  waits. 
The  people  sing,  the  man  and  maid  advance, 
Up  to  the  center  of  the  altar  rude, 
Embracing  fondly  whom  they  chance  to  meet, 
Singing  and  shouting,  moving  gracefully. 

Such  were  the  scenes  where  Nancy  Hanks  was 

born, 

In  the  camp-meetings  of  those  early  days. 
Now,  when  the  march  was  ended,  whispered  one : 


l6  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

"  She  will  be  married  ere  the  month  hath  flown, 
This  maiden,  for  in  love  her  heart  and  hand 
Hath  the  young  lover,  faithful  suitor,  won." 
Perchance  the  twain  who  in  their  ecstasy 
Walked  o'er  that  camp-field,  in  the  forest  still, 
Were  to  become  the  parents  of  the  Great 
Emancipator  who  should  come  to  break 
The  fetters  of  a  race  oppressed,  and  set 
Them  "  then,  thenceforward,  and  forever  free"  !* 

After  the  marriage  came  maternity, 
With  mother-love  unutterable,  deep, 
And  the  strange  ecstasy  that  comes  to  her 
Who,  for  the  first  time,  feels  her  infant's  life 
And  hears  the  beating  of  a  new-made  heart. 
If  there  were  angels  keeping  watch  beside 
God's  children  then,  as  in  the  days  of  old, 
When  over  Bethlehem  there  hung  a  star 
Of  wondrous  brightness,  which  the  Magi  saw 
And  followed  to  the  cradle  of  the  Christ, 
Well  had  they  sung  anew  the  anthem  sweet, 
"Glory  to  God  on  high,  and  peace  on  earth/' 
O'er  the  Kentucky  infant  Abraham. 

The  little  lad  who  bore  his  grandsire's  name 
Passed  quickly  on  to  childhood,  those  sweet  days 
When  all  things  seem  enchanted,  yet  so  real, 
We  never  lose  the  vision  beautiful 
E'en  in  the  twilight  of  a  long,  long  life. 
No  miracle  was  there  to  mark  the  child 
Of  awful  fate  and  destiny  sublime ; 
No  oracle  proclaimed  his  mission  vast ; 
Around  the  mother's  head  no  halo  shone ; 


*  €/.  Emancipation  Proclamation. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  17 

Only  a  common  lad  he  seemed  to  men, 

As  with  his  mother  to  the  village  store 

He  went,  and,  seated  there  upon  a  keg, 

A  lump  of  sugar  sucked  contentedly ; 

Or,  later  still,  in  terror  turned  to  school, 

There  taught  by  one  who  scarce  could  read  or  write, 

A  frontier  pedagogue,  with  look  severe, 

Conveying  inspiration  with  the  rod 

Of  hickory,  or  young  witch-hazel  lithe ; 

Or,  as  in  play-days  he,  with  iron  hook, 

Dragged  forth  the  ground-hog  from  his  hiding  place, 

Or  trapped  the  coons  where  silken  cornfields  waved. 

The  father,  Thomas,  restless  grew  meanwhile, 
Loathed  the  Kentucky  soil,  and  longed  to  go 
To  Indiana  prairies  rich  and  vast. 
"  No  home  is  this,  for  a  poor  man  ",  he  said. 
"  Sterile  the  land ;  'tis  but  a  barren  glade ; 
No  longer  will  I  toil  thereon  to  earn, 
With  sweating  brow,  a  scanty  livelihood. 
My  brother  Mordecai,  the  first-born  son, 
Inherited  my  father's  small  estate," 
(Such  was  the  law  in  those  colonial  days), 
"  While  penniless  am  I  and  nothing  gain. 
O'er  fairer  fields  let  me  my  sickle  swing." 
Such  his  decision  ;  then  he  fell  to  work ; 
A  crude  craft  made,  and  floated  down  the  stream, 
The  Rolling  Fork,  to  the  Ohio  bank. 
There  steered  he  forth  in  the  great  river's  flood. 
But,  poorly  built,  the  boat  was  overturned, 
And  all  its  contents  in  the  waters  plunged ; 
His  implements  and  personal  effects, 
And,  with  the  rest,  ten  forty-gallon  casks 
Of  bartered  whiskey,  chief  of  all  his  wealth, 


1 8  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Sank  in  the  rolling  tide  that  luckless  day. 

Yet  all  undaunted  was  the  pioneer, 

And  wrested  from  the  water's  grasp  his  tools, 

Much  of  the  whiskey ;  and  set  out  again 

For  Indiana,  seeking  a  new  home, 

At  Thomson's  Ferry  landing,  safe  and  sound. 

Six  and  ten  miles  above  the  river's  brink 
He  found  a  place  to  which  his  heart  inclined, 
And  hasted  to  Vincennes,  and  title  took  ; 
Then  back  and  blazed  the  trees  to  mark  the  bounds, 
And  piled  the  brush  at  either  corner  high. 
Back  to  Kentucky  slowly  then  he  strode, 
Wending  his  way  alone,  in  pathless  wood, 
Drawn  thither  by  the  love  of  wife  and  child. 

Resting  awhile  with  Nancy,  sorrowful, 

They  twain  set  forth  into  the  wilderness. 

O,  not  again  was  she  to  look  upon 

The  sacred  scenes  of  childhood,  and  the  spot 

Made  holy  by  the  touch  of  sweet  romance, 

That  comes  to  youth,  but  never  comes  again. 

Perchance  from  her  gray  eye  there  fell  a  tear ; 

Perchance  a  sigh  breathed  from  her  heaving  breast ; 

The  legends  say  not.    This  we  only  know, 

Sad  Nancy  Lincoln  nevermore  returned. 

They  slowly  picked  their  way  through  forests 

dense, 

Till  on  the  banks  of  little  Pigeon  Creek 
They  halted  and  began  a  home  to  build 
In  the  deep  shade  primeval,  the  abode 
Of  beasts  untamed  by  men,  alert  and  wild, 
The  darkness  loving  better  than  the  day. 
A  little  "half-faced"  cabin  first  they  built, 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  19 

But  later  this  they  gave  to  old-time  friends 

Who  from  Kentucky  came  to  cast  their  lot 

And  share  with  them  the  joys  and  sorrows  all ; 

Then  builded  better,  though  a  cabin  rude, 

Whose  length  and  breadth,  like  the  fair  city  seen 

By  John  of  Patmos,  equal  were,  'tis  said. 

There  in  the  loft  slept  little  Abe  at  night, 

And  climbed  to  bed  on  pegs  fixed  in  the  wall, 

Like  Jack  the  Giant-Killer  up  the  stalk, 

To  dream   sweet  dreams  while  panthers  howled 

without. 

Inside,  the  furnishings  were  rustic,  rude  : 
Three-legged  stools  in  place  of  chairs  had  they, 
Bedsteads  of  saplings  made,  rough  and  unhewn  ; 
For  covers,  skins  of  beasts  and  garments  old ; 
Some  pewter  dishes,  one  Dutch  oven  quaint, 
And  a  small  skillet, — these  were  all  they  had 
Of  household  implements  in  the  new  home. 

Here  'twas  the  lot  of  little  Abe  to  pass 
The  years  of  boyhood,  springtime  of  his  life. 
Scrimp  were  the  rations  of  the  cabin  home, 
And  once,  'tis  said,  when  Thomas  offered  thanks 
For  daily  blessings,  that  the  lad  broke  forth, 
O'er  the  potatoes  plain,  their  only  food, — 
"  Dad,  I  should  call  these  blessings  mighty  poor." 
Oft  went  he  to  the  mill  and  ground  by  hand 
With  weary  toil  the  flour,  unbolted,  black  ; 
Helped  in  the  household,  did  the  little  chores 
That  often  fall  to  boyhood's  golden  days. 
Yet  not  unhappy  was  his  early  life ; 
For  him  the  wild  bird  sang  its  merry  lay, 
The  brooklet  babbled,  and  the  breezes  blew 
The  forest  fragrance  through  the  leafy  wood ; 


20  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

The  light  and  shadow  fell  upon  his  path ; 
Through  emerald  vistas  azure  skies  he  saw  ; 
By  night,  the  constellations  passed  in  view  ; 
All  Nature's  panorama  he  beheld, 
The  ceaseless  anthem  of  creation  heard, 
And  grew  in  wisdom  as  he  grew  in  years. 
Then  there  were  dear  companionships  of  youth, 
The  loves  of  childhood,  sweet,  ingenuous ; 
There,  by  his  side,  a  little  sister  played, 
The  partner  of  his  sorrows  and  his  joys. 

Too  poor  was  he  to  own  a  book  at  school, 
So  made  his  own  arithmetic  from  leaves 
Of  coarsest  paper,  wherein  he  did  write 
The  kinds  of  weights,  the  measures,  and  the  "sums", 
As  they  were  called  by  the  unlearned  folk ; 
And  on  one  leaf  facetiously  did  scrawl 
This  simple  rhyme,  in  uncouth  letters  spelled : — 
"  Abraham  Lincoln,  his  hand  and  pen, 
He  will  be  good,  but  God  knows  when." 
A  prophecy,  unconsciously  proclaimed, 
For  he  was  good,  in  the  rich  after  years, 
Honest  and  true  alike  to  God  and  men. 

Then  fell  a  pall  of  sadness  o'er  the  place, 
And  pestilence  stalked  boldly  through  the  land, 
An  unknown  malady.     Some  quickly  died, 
Some  lingered  on  for  days,  and  some  for  years. 
To  man  and  beast  it  came,  a  solemn  blight, 
And  scarce  a  house  was  there  without  its  dead. 
Then  came  the  plague  into  the  Lincoln  home 
And  laid  its  fevered  hand  on  Nancy's  brow ; 
So,  day  by  day,  the  sad,  sweet  mother  grew 
More  helpless  till  she  saw  at  night  the  form 
Of  the  death  angel,  that  weird  messenger 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  21 

Who  comes  alike  to  all  on  land  or  sea, 

At  the  appointed  hour  to  lead  the  soul 

Into  the  region  of  the  land  unknown  ; 

Then,  knowing  that  the  hour  was  drawing  n  ig:i 

When  she  must  pass  into  the  world  unseen, 

She  called  the  boy  and  girl  beside  her  bed 

Whereon  she  feebly  lay ;  the  children  knelt, 

And  thus  she  blessed  them  with  a  mother's  love. 

Her  wasted  hand  upon  his  head  she  placed 

And  prayed  the  boy  be  kind  unto  his  sire 

And  sister ;  begged  them  both  to  love  the  good ; 

The  deathless  hope  she  breathed  that  they  might 

come 

To  dwell  together  in  the  Father's  home 
On  high.     So  from  the  wilderness  she  passed 
Into  the  mystery  that  lies  beyond, 
Where  none  are  sad  and  death  shall  be  no  more. 

Her  dust  they  buried  in  the  solitude. 
No  priest  was  there  to  close  her  eyes  in  death, 
Or  speak  of  life  and  immortality 
Above  the  coffin  rude  and  open  grave. 
But  later,  ere  the  winter  months  had  passed 
Did  David  Elkin  chance  to  go  that  way, 
Preacher  itinerant,  whom  Nancy  knew 
In  her  Kentucky  home,  and  o'er  her  grave 
Spoke  kindly  words  and  true  of  her  dear  life ; 
How  she  her  work  in  the  new  land  had  done, 
Where  God  had  placed  her,  uncomplainingly, 
Her  way  in  sadness  groping  with  no  hope 
Of  any  brighter  day  in  her  dark  life, 
And  silently  her  frailties  passed  o'er, 
Exhorting  all  who  listened  thus  to  live 
Unselfish  lives  and  make  the  world  more  bright 


22  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Then  unto  Abraham  and  Sarah  came 

Days  of  unutterable  loneliness, 

And  dismal  nights,  void  of  a  mother's  love. 

The  cold  winds  wailed  around  the  cabin  door, 

Before  the  wintry  blasts  the  big  boughs  creaked, 

Around  the  new-made  grave  the  wan  wolf  howled 

While  from  the  dying  embers  on  the  hearth 

The  sickly  light  weird,  spectral  shadows  threw 

Upon  the  bolted  door,  till  they  could  see 

In  fancy,  standing  there,  sad-eyed  and  still, 

One  who  had  blessed  them  with  her  dying  breath, 

Then  would  the  sister  say  to  Abraham, 

"  It  is  our  mother  blessing  us  again." 

Whereat  the  boy  would  open  his  great  eyes 

In  wonder,  gazing  long  into  the  dark, 

Then  whisper,  "  Sister,  yes,  I  see,  I  see, 

It  is  our  mother,  though  she  speaketh  not." 

Then  would  they  sit  in  silence  till  the  fire 

Had  smoldered  into  ashes,  and  the  wind 

Subsided,  speaking  not,  till  side  by  side 

They  gently  fell  asleep  to  dream  of  her. 


BOOK  II. 

CARCE  had  a  year  passed  by  e'er  Thomas, 
lone, 

For  Nancy  mourning,  sought  another  bride, 
And  in  his  tender  passion  turned  again 
To  old  Kentucky,  well  remembering 
How  in  the  former  days  he  sought  in  vain 
The  hand  of  Sally  Bush,  years  later  wed 
To  Daniel  Johnston,  keeper  of  the  keys 
Of  Hardin  County  jail,  now  dead  and  mourned 
By  his  true  wife,  a  woman  excellent. 
Uncouth  was  Thomas,  simple  in  his  ways  ; 
Unlike  the  stalwart  Standish,  none  had  he 
With  gifted  eloquence  to  plead  his  cause 
And  win  unconsciously  a  lovely  bride 
Not  for  his  client,  but  himself  instead. 
So  bluntly  spake  he  thus :  "  Mis'  Johnston,  I 
Am  wifeless.     You  no  husband  have.     I  knowed 
You  from  a  gal,  and  you  as  well  knowed  me. 
I  came  a  purpose  here  to  marry  you. 
I  have  no  time  to  lose,  so  let  it  be, 
If  you  are  willin',  ere  the  sun  has  set." 
Surprised,  she  thus  made  answer:  —  "  Not  till  I 
Pay  first  the  debts  I  owe  to  the  kind  friends 
Who  in  my  widowhood  have  helped  me  keep 
The  wolf  of  want  from  children  fatherless." 
Then,  say  the  legends,  Thomas  learned  their  names 
To  whom  the  widow  owed  the  little  debts, 
And  straightway  paid  them  all,  so  that  next  day 
The  marriage  bells  rang  out  right  merrily. 


24  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

To  Indiana  slowly  went  the  twain 
Who  now  were  one  in  sight  of  God  and  man. 
They  brought  with  them  into  the  lonely  home 
The  products  of  her  thrift  and  industry, 
And  little  luxuries  unknown  before 
To  children  now  no  longer  motherless. 
Stately  in  bearing,  fluent  in  her  speech, 
Hard-working,  kind,  and  helpful  unto  all, 
She  was  a  benediction  in  the  home. 
Through  all  the  years  she  cared  for  Abraham, 
E'en  as  a  mother  for  her  only  son, 
Taught  him  to  love  the  good  and  hate  the  wrong, 
And  live  the  precept  of  the  Golden  Rule. 
Prophetic  grew  her  vision  in  old  age  ; 
Her  mother  heart  could  read  the  destiny 
Of  Abraham,  and  tearfully  she  prayed, 
"  Oh,  enter  not  the  lists  of  those  who  strive 
For  leadership  and  more  than  kingly  power." 
But  all  unheeded  were  her  warning  words ; 
He  strove,  and  victory  upon  him  smiled. 
Then,  when  she  looked  upon  her  son  elect, 
The  same  dark  spell  came  over  her  again  — 
An  intuition,  deep,  mysterious ; 
The  oracle  within  her  heart  declared. 
"  Some  dire  calamity  will  him  befall 
And  we  shall  look  upon  his  face  no  more." 
Then  from  her  presence  Abraham  went  forth, 
And  passed  no  more  before  her  wistful  eyes. 
Whence  came  these  voices  to  her  listening  soul  ? 
This  strange  foreboding  of  the  coming  ill  ? 
Who  drew  the  picture  dark  and  terrible 
Which  her  clear  eye  could  see  unerringly  ? 
What  unseen  finger  touched  the  secret  chord 
Of  her  sweet  sympathy  so  that  it  thrilled 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  25 

With,  waking  sense  of  sorrow  imminent  ? 

Perchance  from  the  "  cold,  barren  peaks  beyond," 

From  the  unknown  abyss  beneath  the  grave, 

The  awful  darkness  and  the  rayless  gloom, 

The  spirit  of  sad  Nancy  Hanks  came  forth, 

Revealed  unto  the  foster  mother  there 

In  a  strange  language,  only  audible, 

In  a  strange  vision,  only  visible, 

In  a  weird  presence,  only  manifest 

In  the  old  home  to  her  responsive  soul. 

The  years  passed  swiftly  by,  and  Abraham 
Waxed  strong  like  Samson  and  old  Hercules. 
He  restless  grew,  and  scorned  the  dull  routine 
Of  boyish  labor,  lusting  much  to  be 
Emancipated  from  paternal  rule. 
Anon,  like  Kwasind,  playful  in  his  strength, 
Great  burdens  he  would  lift,  or  with  the  maul 
Drive  the  axe  deeply  in  the  trunk  of  some 
Old  monarch  of  the  forest,  gnarled  and  tough. 
None  could  withstand  him  in  the  tournament 
Of  wrestlers  strong,  none  in  the  field  so  wide 
A  swath  could  mow,  none  in  the  forest  split 
So  many  rails,  or  bear  so  great  a  load. 
He  was  the  leader  in  all  manly  sports, 
And  in  his  seventeenth  year  a  full-grown  man. 

Quaint  were  the  customs  of  that  frontier  life  ; 
Men  dressed  in  deerskin  pants  and  moccasins, 
Coarse  hunting  shirts  tied  up  with  leather  straps, 
And  loaded  muskets  ready  for  attack, 
(Their  good  wives  riding  on  the  trusted  steeds), 
Would  often  walk  a  full  ten  miles  to  church, 
Held  in  some  rude  log  cabin  of  the  wood. 
There,  long  before  the  hour  of  service  came, 


26  A     MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Adventures  thrilling  would  they  each  relate, 
Exploits  of  hunting,  Indian  escapades, 
And  smoke  meantime  a  friendly  pipe  of  peace, 
While  slighting  not  the  much-loved  brandy  bowl. 
Then,  the  itinerant,  fearless  and  sincere, 
Would  take  the  stand  and  preach  with  energy, 
Accredited  the  messenger  of  God. 
The  sermon  ended,  then  they  sang  a  hymn, 
Shook  hands  and  parted  for  another  week, 
Wherein  God  blessed  their  humble  life  of  toil. 
Anon,  to  some  log-rolling  would  they  go 
Great  distances ;  or  to  the  dance  would  trip, 
Bare-footed  maidens  with  their  shoes  in  hand 
Unworn  until  the  festive  scene  was  reached  ; 
There  danced  they  merrily  the  whole  night  long, 
To  simple  tunes  by  rustic  player  whipped 
From  the  hoarse  fiddle,  with  his  swinging  bow. 
Though  joyous  in  their  thrift  and  full  of  mirth, 
Yet  superstitious  were  the  people  all ; 
Believed  in  magic,  feared  the  witch's  sway, 
And  shot  her  image  with  a  silver  ball, 
To  break  the  baneful  thraldom  of  her  spell. 
There  was  the  water  wizard  with  his  wand, 
Who  traced  the  hidden  streamlet's  silent  flow ; 
There  the  mysterious  doctor,  who,  by  songs 
And  signals  strange,  could  exorcise  disease ; 
All  these  the  people  followed  faithfully, 
Like  their  red  brothers,  who  of  old  had  danced 
Their  powwows  in  the  same  primeval  wood. 

If  through  the  window  then  a  wild  bird  flew, 
Or  if  the  horse's  breath  fell  on  the  head 
Of  a  dear  child,  or  if  the  hunter's  dog 
His  pathway  crossed,  all  this  betokened  ill. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  27 

In  the  moon's  waxing  light  their  rails  they  split, 
Planted  potatoes  when  the  orb  withdrew ; 
On  Friday  nothing  started  could  succeed, 
And  only  mischief  follow  in  its  train ; 
All  dreams  were  full  of  prophecy  to  them. 
But  some  there  were,  indeed,  who  held  a  faith 
Likewise  in  destiny ;  that  somehow  God 
Had  foreordained  whatever  is  to  be. 
And  colored  by  such  thought  was  Lincoln's  soul. 

Then  fell  again  the  plague  upon  the  place, 
The  fearful  "  milk  sick  ",  killing  man  and  beast ! 
Men  lost  their  courage,  and  looked  wistfully 
Out  from  the  windows  of  their  cabin  homes, 
And  longed  to  go  to  some  far  distant  land, 
Thus  to  avoid  the  pestilential  breath. 
Then  some  who  lately  passed  to  Illinois, 
Returning  like  the  spies  to  Israel, 
Brought  with  them  glowing  stories  of  the  land, 
Its  healthful  climate,  and  its  fertile  soil, 
And  urged  their  brothers  thitherward  to  go. 

These  spake  to  Thomas,  restless  as  of  yore  :  — 
"  Come  to  the  fairer  fields  of  Illinois, 
Come  where  the  virgin  soil  awaits  thy  plow, 
Come  lest  the  blight  should  cast  its  withering  shade, 
And  darken  home  and  heart  with  loneliness." 
So,  quickly  Thomas  sold  his  land  and  stock, 
His  oxen  harnessed  to  a  ponderous  cart, 
Wherein  his  household  goods  were  snugly  packed, 
And  journeyed  slowly  westward  with  his  kin, 
Thirteen  in  all,  and  with  them  Abraham, 
Now  twenty-one,  a  lank  and  awkward  youth, 
But  mellow-hearted  as  a  maiden  mild. 
It  was  the  springtime  ;  scarcely  had  the  buds 


28  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Awakened  from  the  sleep  of  wintry  months ; 
Oft  did  the  path  congeal  o'er  which  they  trod. 
Bridgeless  the  streams  before  them  deeply  flowed, 
The  rivers  many  which  they  forded  through  ; 
And  once,  it  chanced,  they  looking  back  upon 
The  farther  shore  saw,  shivering  in  fear 
Thereon,    the    whimpering    cur    which    Thomas 

brought 

With  them,  afraid  to  swim  the  current  cold, 
And  howling  wildly  in  his  misery. 
In  vain  his  prayer  fell  on  the  ears  of  all 
Save  Abraham  the  merciful,  who  turned, 
And,  while  his  kinsmen   forward  moved,  strode 

back 

To  ford  the  stream  again,  and  brought  the  brute 
In  safety  through  the  Red  Sea  of  its  fear. 

So  kind  was  he,  his  eyes  could  ne'er  behold 
Unfeelingly  pain  in  the  humblest  thing ; 
And  once  again,  the  legends  say,  his  path 
Lay  near  a  mire  wherein  had  sunk  a  sow, 
Which  struggled  vainly,  as  he  passed,  to  rise. 
In  carelessness  he  forward  thought  to  go, 
But  a  strong  impulse  tugging  at  his  heart 
Forbade  his  progress ;  then  he  turned  again, 
Moved  by  deep  sympathy  for  the  poor  wretch, 
And  rescued  her.     Thus  moved  he  on  the  way 
Of  humble  duty,  making  glad  the  heart 
Of  man  and  beast;  thus  onward  through  the  years 
Of  preparation  passed  he  consecrate,  - 
Anointed  by  the  hand  of  Providence - 
To  the  great  sacrifice,  the  martyrdom 
Of  his  dear  self  to  free  his  fellow  man. 
Oh,  is  not  life  all  one  in  man  and  brute? 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  29 

No  thing  is  dead  in  all  the  universe : 

Behold,  the  senseless  clod  is  animate, 

The  cold  stone  vibrates  with  vitality, 

All  things  do  live,  each  is  a  part  of  all ; 

The  common  life  flows  through  the  cosmic  whole. 

Then  marvel  not  that  lofty  souls  may  stoop 

In  tenderness  to  help  the  humblest  thing  ; 

That  deepest  hearts  feel  most  the  mystic  tie 

That  binds  all  things  that  be,  in  unity. 

Behold,  the  soul  of  man  is  all  divine 

And  its  heredity  from  the  great  God  ! 

We  are  not  worms,  doomed  ever  to  the  dust, 

But  embryonic  angels,  working  out 

The  triumph  of  the  spirit  o'er  the  clay 

In  the  long  spiral  of  ascending  life. 

Long  was  the  journey  into  Illinois, 
But  patiently  they  plodded  slowly  on, 
And  in  the  fullness  of  the  time  arrived 
Within  the  borders  of  the  Prairie  State, 
Selecting  for  their  home  a  pleasant  bluff 
That  overlooks  the  charming  Sangamon. 
Here  Thomas  for  a  while  ambitious  grew, 
And  with  the  aid  of  others  felled  the  trees, 
Then  built  a  cabin  like  the  one  of  yore  ; 
Broke  up  the  glebe  and  planted  fields  of  maize, 
While  Abraham,  in  buckskin  breeches  clad, 
And  coon-skin  cap  upon  his  forehead  high, 
Split  monstrous  rails  and  fenced  the  heritage. 

Oh,  little  did  they  dream  who  saw  him  then 
Their  eyes  beheld  a  future  president, 
So  marv'lous  is  the  strange  kaleidoscope 
Of  Providence  and  human  destiny ! 


3<D  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Yet,  not  content,  the  migratory  soul 
Of  Thomas  rested  not,  but  ere  he  died 
Thrice  westward  moved.     Till  an  old  man  he  lived 
At  Farmington,  and  there  gave  up  the  ghost, 
Devoid  of  earthly  gain,  but  hoping  still 
Beyond  the  grave  to  find  a  better  land. 

To  Abraham  the  years  brought  little  strange  : 
Long  hours  of  labor,  days  of  honest  toil, 
Succeeding  precious  nights,  in  which  he  read 
With  great  avidity  whatever  books 
The  frontier  yielded  to  his  thirsty  mind, 
Trudging  uncounted  miles  in  quest  of  them. 
Then  burned  ambition's  flame  within  his  breast ; 
He  longed  for  greatness,  conscious  of  his  power. 
There  oft  in  solitude  would  he  address 
Majestic  trees  and  unreplying  stumps ; 
His  audience,  the  forest  dark  and  still, 
With  multitudes  his  fancy  brought  to  view, 
And  spirits  of  the  world  invisible. 
Perchance,  beside  him  there  stood  Nancy  Hanks, 
Proud  of  her  son,  and  with  a  mother's  love 
Inspired  in  him  the  strong  desire  to  rise, 
That  led  him  on  into  the  halls  of  State. 
As  from  Olympus  to  the  Grecians  came 
The  ancient  gods  to  counsel  and  inspire, 
So  from  the  silent  realm  may  come  to  us 
The  angel  forms  we  fondly  loved  of  yore, 
The  friends  unseen,  to  aid  us  in  life's  fray. 

In  Springfield,  but  a  frontier  hamlet  then, 
There  stood  an  ancient  inn,  known,  from  the  sign 
Of  a  buck's  head  that  swung  above  the  door, 
As  "  The  Buckhorn",  and  here  the  genial  host 
Welcomed  his  many  guests  with  hearty  cheer. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  31 

Here  with  one  Offut  met  young  Abraham, 
A  busy  man  and  venturesome  withal, 
Of  boats  possessed,  which  plied  the  Sangamon, 
And  sailed  sometimes  far  down  to  New  Orleans. 
Tired  of  the  woods  and  chafing  to  be  free, 
Strong  Abraham  was  glad  then  to  engage 
To  float  a  cargo  southward  to  the  Gulf 
In  Offut's  service,  he  to  have  the  boat 
For  launching  ready  in  a  fortnight's  time. 
So,  longing  for  a  vision  of  the  world, 
The  gaunt,  unpolished  rustic  homeward  turned, 
Anticipating  what  the  trip  should  bring, 
Bright  castles  building  in  the  springtime  air, 
Ambitious  to  become  a  craftsman  skilled, 
And  bring  her  safely  to  the  southern  port. 
Now  when  the  time  was  ripe  did  Abraham 
With  his  companions  to  the  Buckhorn  come, 
And  finding  Oifut  there  inquired  of  him 
About  the  boat,  and  where  she  lay,  and  when 
They  should  begin  their  voyage  to  the  Gulf. 
Then  first  learned  they  that  Offut,  fond  of  drink, 
The  craft  had  not  prepared  as  he  agreed, 
But,  rather,  spent  the  time  in  telling  tales, 
And  quaffing  whiskey  with  the  hangers-on. 
Thereat  the  men  were  disappointed  much ; 
But  all  resolved  not  to  give  up  the  trip, 
And  so  agreed  with  Offut  they  would  build 
Themselves  a  boat,  he  to  employ  them  all 
To  make  the  voyage.     Then  they  fell  to  work, 
Cut  down  the  sturdy  trees,  full-circled,  old, 
And  built  a  craft  whereon  they  placed  the  goods 
Of  Offut,  and  with  great  success  set  forth 
Adown  the  stream,  proud  of  their  enterprise. 


32  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Great  was  the  launching  of  the  little  craft ; 
The  crowd  was  there  to  see  her  maiden  plunge 
Into  the  waters  of  the  Sangamon. 
There  lauded  they  the  Whigs,  and  Jackson  too, 
And  some  disputed  as  to  politics ; 
Then  did  this  Abraham,  a  statesman  born, 
Who  for  his  rostrum  had  an  o'erturned  box, 
Discuss  the  issues  of  that  early  day 
So  wisely  well  that  they  who  listened  said, 
"  Behold  the  leader  of  a  future  age." 

They  glided  smoothly  on  and  quickly  reached 
New  Salem  with  its  thrifty,  happy  homes 
(Now  vanished,  but  in  loving  hearts  enshrined), 
And  little  dreamed  the  place  had  much  in  store 
For  Abraham.     Here  ran  the  boat  aground 
On  Rutledge  mill-dam  and  hung  helplessly, 
So,  long  and  hard,  they  toiled  to  set  her  free, 
Unloading  and  reloading  her  in  haste. 

There  mightily  did  Abraham  acquit 
Himself  in  Offut's  presence,  so  the  man 
Declared  aloud  unto  the  multitude 
That  he  a  boat  would  build,  with  wheels  to  plow 
The  Sangamon,  and  roll  o'er  obstacles, 
With  Abe  for  Captain.    So  cried  he  again 
And  lustily,  "  By  Neptune !  then  she'd  go." 

So  down  the  Sangamon  and  Illinois 
They  floated,  with  a  sail  made  part  of  plank 
And  part  of  faded  cloth,  and  rudely  set, 
Whereat  the  people  on  the  shore,  who  saw, 
Laughed  loud  and  long,  but  not  contemptuously ; 
For  none  who  looked  upon  the  solemn  face 
Of  him,  her  pilot,  could  revile  the  man, 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  33 

Contrived  by  God  in  nature's  noblest  mould, 
Who  bore  the  stamp  of  character  sublime. 

So,  passing  Memphis,  Vicksburg,  Natchez,  safe, 
They  came  one  bright  May  morn  to  New  Orleans. 
The  eyes  of  Abraham  then  first  beheld 
And  marked  the  horrors  of  the  awful  trade 
In  human  chattels  —  saw  a  maiden  sold 
In  public  vendue,  auctioned  to  the  man 
Who  bid  the  highest  price  and  placed  the  gold 
Upon  the  counter  for  the  living  thing. 

A  fair  mulatto  girl,  with  rounded  limbs, 
Robust  and  vigorous,  as  all  might  know, 
Yet  bidders  pinched  her  flesh  and  made  her  run, 
Like  a  young  horse,  before  them  at  the  sale, 
That  they  might  see,  the  vendor  gravely  said, 
What  they  were  buying  was  from  blemish  free. 

Oh,  wretched  spectacle !  'twas  doubtless  there 
The  heart  of  Abraham  was  keenly  pierced 
With  the  sharp  sword  of  sorrow  for  the  race 
In  bondage,  bartered  like  the  helpless  brutes. 
For,  turning  sadly  from  the  cruel  scene, 
Said  he :    "  Oh,  let  us  get  away !  By  God, 
If  in  the  years  to  be  there  corne  a  chance 
To  hit  this  monster,  I  will  hit  it  hard !  " 
Long  after,  in  the  time  appointed,  lo, 
God  gave  the  moment,  and  he  struck  the  blow ! 
Oh,  awful  thought,  that  over  all  the  earth 
The  damning  spell  of  slavery  hath  lain ; 
The  heritage  of  savagery  and  lust, 
Of  those  dark  days  when  brutish  force  was  law, 
And  might  was  miscalled  right,  and  the  strong  man 
Put  shackles  on  the  weaker,  in  the  name 


34  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Of  sweet  religion,  thinking  that  the  God 
Who  hung  Orion  and  the  Pleiades, 
Omnipotent,  omniscient,  merciful, 
Approved  in  far-off  heaven  the  monstrous  deed. 
Oh,  curst  be  bondage  in  all  time  and  space, 
Of  man  to  man,  and  whether  shackles  rest 
Upon  the  brain  or  ankle,  cursed  still, 
In  ancient  Egypt  or  in  New  Orleans. 


BOOK  HI. 

,EXT  in  New  Salem  Abraham  appeared, 
And  to  the  curious  ones  who  asked  of  him, 
"Why  cam'st  thou  hither?"  thus  did  he 
respond : 

"  A  piece  of  driftwood  floating  down  am  I, 
Borne  by  the  freshets  and  by  accident, 
Lodged  in  this  village,  waiting  for  the  tide 
To  bear  me  outward  thence  and  ocean  ward: 
At  last  I  hope  to  rest  in  the  great  deep." 

Now,  looking  backward  o'er  his  long  career, 
We  see  the  wisdom  of  the  Power  that  brought 
The  rude  rail-splitter  to  the  Sangamon. 
Here  first  at  the  election  did  he  check 
The  list  of  voters,  and  beguiled  the  crowd 
With  stories  full  of  mirth  and  pointed  wit. 
Thus  did  the  people  come  to  learn  of  him, 
And  all  felt  drawn  by  his  plain,  honest  ways. 

So  the  physician  of  the  town  engaged 
Him  as  a  pilot  to  the  Illinois; 

But  reaching  Beardstown,  there  was  he  discharged, 
And  plodded  to  New  Salem  wearily. 

There  too  came  Off ut  also  with  his  goods ; 
A  mill  he  leased,  and  placed  true  Abraham 
In  charge  of  all  his  enterprises  vast. 
Expecting  much  of  such  good  stewardship, 
Him  did  he  highly  praise  and  boldly  say  : 
"  He  is  a  man  of  great  ability, 


36  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

High  his  attainments  and  his  prowess  great. 
Along  the  Sangamon  there  is  no  man 
He  cannot  whip,  outrun,  or  wrestle  down ; 
I  challenge  all  the  country  'round  about." 

Then  wildly  spread  the  news  to  Clary's  Grove, 
Home  of  a  motley  crowd,  half-civilized, 
Good-natured,  friendly,  who  could  fight  or  pray, 
Chaotic  product  of  a  frontier  life. 
Rough  were  they  in  their  sports,  yet  to  the  sick 
Or  the  defenseless  merciful  and  kind. 
They  helped  the  widow,  smoothed  the  orphan's 

way, 

Relieved  the  feeble  in  their  wretchedness, 
But  brooked  no  rivalry  in  love  or  war. 

To  one,  Jack  Armstrong,  powerful  and  tall, 
They  yielded  leadership,  and  boasted  much 
That  he  could  master  any  man  who  trod 
The  banks  of  Sangamon.     They  cried,  "Aha, 
Let  but  this  awkward  Abraham  come  down, 
And  we  will  teach  him  how  to  fist  and  fight, 
And  roll  his  bony  carcass  on  the  ground, 
Or  ride  him  on  a  rail  across  the  town. 
If  he  be  all  that  Offut  claims  for  him, 
Let  him  try  muscle  with  our  Armstrong  great, 
And  if  triumphant,  then  will  we  accord 
To  this  new-comer  rule  in  Clary's  Grove." 

Yet  much  averse  was  Abraham  to  this, 
And  would  not  go  till  Offut  prayed  of  him 
To  fight  the  great  Philistine  of  the  grove. 
Then  came  the  contest,  bruited  through  the  place, 
Whereon  men  staked  their  chattels  old  and  new, 
All  sorts  of  property,  each  confident 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  37 

His  man  was  stronger,  and  that  victory 
Must  come  to  him.     Long  did  they  struggle,  till 
True  Abraham,  suspicious  of  foul  play, 
Became  enraged,  and  then,  with  mighty  grasp, 
The  burly  wrestler  seized  around  the  throat, 
And  swung  him  in  mid-air  before  the  throng, 
Writhing  in  pain  and  ready  to  succumb. 
So  from  that  day  did  Armstrong  and  his  kin 
Cleave  unto  Abraham,  and  Clary's  Grove 
Bespoke  his  honor  reverentially. 

Meanwhile,  on  Offut's  counter,  when  the  day 
With  all  its  barter  yielded  to  the  night, 
Would  Abraham  his  long  legs  stretch,  and  read 
With  mind  absorbed,  intent,  while  'round  him  men 
Played  cards,  or  drank,  or  slept,  unthinkingly. 

Much  people  questioned  if  the  Sangamon 
Would  float  a  steamer  in  those  early  days, 
So  Vincent  Bogue  made  proclamation  wide 
That  he  from  Cincinnati  would  sail  forth 
To  Springfield  and  the  fertile  land  beyond. 

Great  was  the  joy  of  all  the  country  round ; 
Men  armed  with  axes  fixed  on  handles  long 
Went  forth,  and  with  them  honest  Abraham, 
To  cut  away  the  branches  o'er  the  stream 
And  wave  a  welcome  to  the  "  Talisman." 
At  Springfield  lying  for  a  little  while, 
An  honored  guest,  the  falling  waters  told 
The  captain  he  must  plan  a  quick  retreat, 
Or  rest  a  pris'ner  in  the  Sangamon. 
So  downward  did  he  turn  the  "  Talisman," 
And  slowly  sailed  a  good  four  miles  each  day. 
New  Salem  reached,  when,  lo !  she  ran  aground 


38  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

On  Rutledge  dam  ;  then,  as  in  days  agone, 
There  came  the  skilled  and  faithful  Abraham, 
Familiar  with  the  shoals  of  Sangamon, 
And  by  his  wisdom  piloted  the  boat 
To  Beardstown,  bidding  her  a  long  adieu. 

So  in  the  years  of  tumult  and  distress, 
When  the  old  Ship  of  State  struck  on  the  rock 
Of  dark  secession,  came  this  Abraham,— 
Pilot  of  Sangamon  —  and  brought  to  port 
That  greater  craft  which  held  a  nation's  hope, 
And  steered  his  course  by  God's  eternal  stars, 
Into  the  ocean  of  sweet  liberty. 

With  the  departure  of  the  "  Talisman  " 
The  village  of  New  Salem  OfTut  left. 
So  like  a  piece  of  driftwood  Abraham 
Now  floated  on  the  restless  flood  of  years, 
Till  the  great  chieftain  Black  Hawk  dared  to  cross 
The  Mississippi  with  his  warriors  brave, 
Destruction  plotting  unto  old  and  young. 
Whereat  did  Abraham  enlist  with  those 
Who  kept  the  frontier,  careless  of  their  lives, 
Forgetting  self  to  save  their  fellow  men, 
Their  wives  and  little  children,  from  the  fate 
Of  Indian  warfare  with  its  cruelty. 

The  captain  of  the  company  they  chose 
On  this  wise :  —  In  two  lines  they  formed  and  then 
Aspirants  for  the  leadership  came  forth ; 
Each  in  well-uttered  speech  told  of  the  wars 
In  which  he  had  won  honor,  and  how  great 
His  zeal  and  courage  were  to  fight  again. 
Then  would  the  men  take  place  by  him  they  sought 
For  captain ;  so  spake  many  boastingly, 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  39 

All  anxious  to  be  foremost  in  the  fray. 
Now  one  among-  them  in  real  war  had  been, 
And  in  his  uniform  saluted  them, 
Appearing  soldier-like  with  martial  mien  ; 
Whereat  a  part,  lured  on  by  his  attire, 
His  line  preferred',  and  Abraham  despaired 
*  Of  being  captain,  and  stood  still,  cast  down, 
Yet  not  in  jealousy,  but  honest  pride, 
And  disappointment ,  whereupon  his  men 
Cried,  "  Honest  Abe,  come  forth  and  lead  us  on 
To  fight  the  Indians  as  ye  Armstrong  fought.' " 
Then  fell  they  into  line,  and  lo !  the  choice 
Lay  unto  Abraham.     So  he  went  forth 
New  Salem's  captain  in  the  Black  Hawk  War. 

It  chanced  one  day,  an  Indian,  weak  and  old, 
Defenseless,  hungry,  strayed  into  the  camp, 
A  letter  bearing  from  the  valiant  Cass, 
Of  introduction  and  good  character. 
The  rough  frontiersmen,  hating  much  his  race, 
Said,  "  Come,  and  let  us  kill  him ;  he  is  but 
A  spy,  to  carry  tidings  to  his  chief. 
The  letter  is  a  stupid  forgery." 
They  clamored  for  his  blood  like  thirsty  beasts. 
The  tiger  that  looks  out  from  human  eye, 
The  wolf  that  lives  within  the  heart  of  man, 
These,  cruel  and  relentless,  sought  his  death. 
But  their  good  captain,  Abraham  the  just, 
In  righteous  indignation,  interposed. 
Sternly  commanding,  "  No,  it  must  not  be !  " 
Spared  the  defenseless  red  man,  whereupon 
His  soldiers  sullenly,  like  angry  hounds, 
Went  grumblingly  into  their  barricades. 


40  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

He  sought  New  Salem  when  the  war  was  o'er, 
Ambitious  to  be  leader  as  of  old. 
Declaring  for  Whig  principles  withal  — 
For  the  deep  dredging  of  the  Sangamon, 
Protective  tariff,  and  the  nation's  banks, 
Free  education  and  improvements  grand  — 
He  entered  the  arena  where  men  strive 
For  honor  and  the  leadership  of  state. 
Then  to  the  county  voters  he  appealed, 
Their  ballots  seeking,  a  quaint  candidate : 
Clad  in  "  a  mixed  jeans  coat,  claw-hammer  style, 
Short  in  the  sleeves,"  above  his  sinewy  wrists, 
Bob-tailed,  ill-fitting,  trousers  skimped  of  cloth, 
Pot-metal  boots,  and  coarse  hat  made  of  straw. 

'Twas  at  a  public  sale  that  first  he  spoke, 
And  as  upon  the  platform  rude  he  sat, 
His  turn  awaiting,  a  rough  fight  ensued, 
Among  the  people,  in  the  multitude. 
And  seeing  one,  his  comrade,  in  the  grasp 
Of  a  rude  ruffian,  almost  overpowered, 
The  candidate,  with  one  tremendous  leap 
Descended,  seized  and  threw  the  burly  brute 
A  good  twelve  feet,  then  to  the  platform  went 
And  made  his  simple  speech  in  homely  phrase 
But  true,  so  that  the  people  cried,  "  Hurrah 
For  'Honest   Abe!'     Three  cheers  for   'Honest 

Abe ! '  " 

So,  clamorously  and  long,  whene'er  he  came 
His  neighbors  shouted  for  him,  since  they  knew 
His  honest  ways,  and  loved  him  tenderly. 

1    Yet  still  he  strove  in  vain,  and  at  the  polls 
The  sovereign  will,  that  falls  like  flakes  of  snow 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  41 

In  silence  all  the  day,  overwhelmed  his  hope, 
That  rose  again  triumphant,  grand,  sublime. 

Then  for  a  while  he  vended  goods  and  bought, 
But  in  his  heart  abhorred  the  ways  of  trade 
And  prospered  not.     He  longed  the  law  to  woo ; 
So,  in  New  Salem  often  would  he  sit, 
Barefooted,  'neath  some  cooling  shade,  and  pore 
O'er  Blackstone,  Chitty,  Coke,  and  Littleton, 
Depositories  of  the  awful  will 
Of  generations ;  that  slow  growth  of  years 
Unnumbered,  heritage  of  time,  that  shapes 
The  conduct  of  the  living  and  decides 
The  rights  of  unborn  infants,  silently. 

Yet  so  unpromising  a  student  he, 
Upon  the  woodpile  seated,  book  in  hand, 
That  when  old  Godby  chanced  to  pass  that  way. 
And  saw  him  proud  as  Cicero,  he  said, 
"  Great  God  Almighty ! "  and  passed  quickly  by, 
In  him  discerning  not  the  advocate 
Of  future  years,  whose  simple  eloquence 
Swayed  nations  in  the  forum  of  the  world. 

Then  soon  in  justice  courts  he  often  plead, 
Not  for  the  fee  but  more  for  discipline, 
The  deepest  satisfaction  feeling  when 
He  saw  the  triumph  of  the  right  o'er  wrong. 
Friend  of  the  poor,  protector  of  the  weak, 
Oft  did  his  clients,  in  their  gratitude, 
Bless  him  for  friendly  counsel  and  advice. 
Unnumbered  stories  did  he  freely  tell, 
And  break  thereby  the  dull  monotony 
Of  legal  study ;  glad'ning  other  lives, 
And  sunshine  bringing  into  gloomy  homes. 


42  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Nor  did  he  lose  his  love  for  manly  sports ; 
And  often  in  his  fairness  would  decide 
Between  his  fellows,  so  none  would  complain ; 
For  all  in  work  or  play  called  him  the  same 
Plain,  homely  title,  —  only  "  Honest  Abe." 

Long  were  the  lines  he  with  his  transit  ran 
While  a  surveyor  for  the  frontier  field ; 
Such  his  precision  and  his  honesty 
That  all  men  trusted  in  his  measurements, 
The  constant  needle  deeming  no  more  sure 
Than  his  true  heart  and  piercing  intellect. 

Nor  did  ambition  slumber  in  his  breast, 
And  once  again  the  people's  vote  he  sought ; 
Within  New  Salem,  'long  the  Sangamon, 
Held  many  tournaments,  political, 
With  worthy  rivals  for  the  honored  seat 
In  the  Assembly ;  and  'tis  said  of  him 
That  once  in  the  campaign  he  chanced  to  come 
Upon  some  stalwart  harvesters,  strong  men, 
Who  gauged  a  candidate  by  bone  and  brawn, 
Preferring  strength  to  wily  argument. 
Their  standard  learning,  Lincoln  quickly  seized 
A  cradle,  reaping  dext'rously  and  well. 
He  distanced  those  who  undertook  the  race, 
And  won  them  thus  by  his  strong  leadership. 

So  ere  the  winter  snows  fell  on  the  field, 
And  icy  fetters  stilled  the  Sangamon, 
Elected,  "  Honest  Abe  "  went  forth  to  lead 
The  statesmen  of  the  fertile  Prairie  State. 


BOOK  IV. 

ING  now,  my  muse,  the  passion  grand  and 

strong 

Of  that  true  life,  a  deep  romance,  and  sad, 
Whose  memory  a  melancholy  threw 
O'er  all  the  after  years,  until  his  death, 
And  wrote  its  record  in  his  countenance  ; 
So  that  whoe'er  beheld  him  afterward 
Could  not  forget  until  his  dying  day 
The  solemn  look  of  sadness  seated  there. 

He  loved  sweet  Annie  Rutledge,  maiden  fair, 
With  that  deep  ardor  and  ecstatic  joy 
That  only  comes  to  him  who  first  beholds 
The  form  of  her  who  fills  his  heart's  desire, 
Whose  presence  is  a  spell  ineffable, 
An  inspiration  and  a  light  divine. 

A  girl  of  beauty,  by  her  winsome  ways 
She  won  the  love  of  all  both  old  and  young ; 
A  maiden  of  New  Salem,  pure  and  true, 
Strong  in  the  elements  of  womanhood, 
The  favorite  of  all  with  whom  she  walked, 
The  village  princess,  in  their  hearts  enthroned. 
Nor  did  her  beauty  make  her  vain  or  proud  ; 
Of  simple  ways,  industrious  and  kind, 
The  home  she  neatly  kept,  wherein  she  dwelt 
With  loving  kin ;  the  needle  deftly  plied, 
So  at  the  quiltings  none  could  her  excel ; 
While  from  the  spelling-match  she  bore  away, 
In  undisputed  victory,  the  prize. 


44  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

To  her  did  Lincoln  passionately  turn, 
Drawn  by  a  power  resistless,  subtle,  deep, 
Oneness  of  spirit,  mystic,  wonderful ; 
A  strange  affinity  of  souls  that  beat 
In  unison,  as  though  by  fate  attuned, 
Each  incomplete  without  the  other's  love. 

So  to  the  quiltings,  do  the  legends  say, 
Strong  Abraham  walked  oft  with  Annie  fair, 
And  entered  once  the  room  wherein  the  quilt 
Was  sewed  by  nimble  fingers,  and  sat  down 
Among  the  women,  from  the  men  apart, 
Amid  the  ridicule  and  heartless  jests 
Of  rivals  angered  by  his  ardent  love, 
And  heeding  not  the  keen,  contemptuous  looks 
Of  solemn  spinsters,  jealous  of  the  girl. 

There  fervently  he  told  her  of  his  love, 
The  sweet,  old  story,  old  as  human  life, 
That  man  hath  told  to  woman  and  will  tell 
Till  life  shall  perish  and  the  dreary  world 
Roll  cold  and  desolate  along  its  orb. 

Then  throbbed  her  heart  with  pleasure,  and  her 

soul 

Thrilled  with  the  joy  that  only  woman  knows, 
Loved  by  the  spirit  answering  the  call 
That  from  her  heart  of  hearts  longs  for  response. 

Thus  did  they  love ;  he,  strong  and  swarthy,  tall 
And  powerful ;  she,  fair  and  frail,  blue-eyed, 
A  charming  blonde,  with  hair  of  auburn  hue ; 
Sweet-hearted,  matron-like,  and  beautiful. 

Then  in  her  bosom  raged  the  struggle  old 
'Twixt  love  and  duty  as  it  seemed  to  lie  ; 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  45 

And  sadly  did  she  tell  him  in  kind  words, 
That  only  maiden  tenderness  could  speak, 
How,  ere  she  knew  him,  she  had  plighted  love 
With  one  who  claimed  her  hand  and  would  not 

yield, 

The  marriage  urging  at  some  future  day ; 
Meanwhile  the  purest  constancy  he  swore. 
So  sadly  said  she  "  Nay  "  to  Abraham, 
With  breaking  heart,  but  loyal  to  her  vow, 
Welcomed  McNeil,  his  rival  suitor  bold, 
And  hoped  to  make  him  happy  by  the  smile 
Of  woman's  tenderness  born  not  of  love. 

Then  came  a  separation,  and  McNeil 
Went  eastward  to  his  childhood's  home  again, 
But,  ere  he  took  the  journey  came  to  her 
He  loved,  and  said,  in  tones  of  tenderness : 
"  Believe  me,  dearest,  I  have  loved  thee  long 
And  ever  shall  love.    Though  afar  from  thee 
I  go,  I  shall  return  to  claim  mine  own, 
And  lead  thee  hence,  a  fair  and  lovely  bride." 
More  did  he  tell  her ;  how  when  he  was  young 
Forth  from  a  home  of  want  and  penury 
He  went  to  seek  his  fortune  ;  thinking  then 
The  name  his  parents  bore  might  do  him  harm, 
He  changed  from  McNamar  unto  McNeil. 
How  he  had  struggled  much,  as  well  she  knew  ; 
Accumulated  riches,  yet  unknown 
To  all  his  kinsmen  through  the  passing  years, 
For  fear,  if  they  his  whereabouts  should  know, 
They  too  might  come  to  dwell  in  the  new  land 
Ere  he  had  won  his  honor  and  his  wealth, 
And  by  their  ignorance  and  poverty 
Forever  blast  his  high  ambitions  all ; 


46  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

How  in  that  eastern  town  where  he  had  dwelt 
Still  lived  his  parents,  feeble  and  infirm ; 
The  voice  of  duty  called  him  to  their  aid, 
So  thitherward  he  now  must  go  in  haste ; 
Then  bade  the  girl  a  long  and  fond  adieu. 

Deep  was  the  sorrow  of  poor  Annie  then, 
Sad  and  forsaken  seemed  the  lonely  maid ; 
And  there  were  those  who  in  their  wisdom  said, 
"  Never  again  her  lover  will  she  see," 
And  cursed  the  faithless  McNamar,  as  grew 
The  weary  weeks  to  months,  and  still  there  came 
No  tidings  to  the  maiden  in  her  grief. 

Upon  a  steed  that  in  the  Black  Hawk  war 
Had  borne  a  soldier  to  the  frontier  wild, 
Along  the  dewy  roadway  did  McNeil 
Ride  eastward  in  the  early  autumn  morn, 
His  destination  the  great  Empire  State. 
Into  Ohio  slowly  passed  the  youth, 
Oft  thinking  of  New  Salem's  maiden  fair, 
When  suddenly  his  head  began  to  throb 
And  all  the  trees  seemed  swaying  o'er  his  path, 
Although  no  wind  was  blowing  on  the  lea, 
And  not  a  rustle  whispered  to  the  bough. 
Thus  reeling  in  his  saddle,  well  for  him 
One  tender-hearted  chanced  to  pass  that  way, 
A  good  Samaritan,  like  him  of  old, 
Who  loved  his  neighbor  and  by  kindly  deeds 
The  blessed  law  of  brotherhood  fulfilled. 

His  servant  calling,  tenderly  they  bore 
Into  their  home  the  stricken  traveler, 
There  kindly  ministered  unto  his  needs, 
And  watched  beside  him  while  the  fever  raged, 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  47 

Moistened  his  parched  lips  and  cooled  his  brow. 

In  wild  delirium  at  times  he  tossed 

And  writhed  upon  his  bed,  and  cursed  the  day, 

Like  Job  of  old,  in  which  he  saw  the  light ; 

Then  often  in  the  twilight  would  he  lie 

And  watch  the  colored  clouds  of  eventide, 

Look  westward  wistfully  and  only  say, 

"Annie,  my  Annie  !  "  oh,  so  plaintively, 

That  they  who  watched  beside  him  turned  away 

In  sympathy  to  drop  the  silent  tear. 

Yet  none  knew  whence  he  came  or  fain  would  go. 

New  Salem's  mail  came  weekly  in  those  days, 
Consigned  to  Abraham,  postmaster  there ; 
So  few  the  letters  to  that  little  town 
He  truly  said,  he  kept  them  in  his  hat. 
With  deep  anxiety  each  name  he  read  ; 
He  hoped,  yet  feared,  that  some  intelligence 
Might  come  to  her,  the  idol  of  his  love  ; 
Hoped  joy  for  her,  feared  anguish  for  himself. 
But  weeks  passed  by  and  nought  of  tidings  came 
To  faithful  Annie  in  her  loneliness; 
And  e'en  her  kin  denied  his  constancy 
Who  thus  would  leave  her  with  no  word  of  love ; 
And  so  with  cruel  satire  sharp  said  they, 
"  Pray,  has  thy  lover  dear  come  back  to  thee  ?  " 
"  Where  in  the  east  does  thy  true  lover  dwell  ?  " 
Thus,  taunting  her  whose  life  of  wretchedness 
Was  filled  with  sorrow  and  hope  long  deferred, 
They  cursed  the  very  name  of  McNamar. 

Meanwhile  the  fever  slowly  ran  its  course  ; 
The  wasted  form,  pale  and  emaciate, 
Bore  slight  resemblance  to  the  ruddy  youth 
Who,  in  September,  had  New  Salem  left. 


48  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

But,  by  and  by,  the  pulses  calmer  grew, 

And  with  the  morning  light  his  reason  came, 

While  weary  watchers  sat  beside  his  bed, 

Ere  chill  November  robed  the  hills  with  snow. 

So  afterwards  did  McNamar  ride  on, 

The  weary  journey  lasting  many  days, 

Until  at  last  he  reached  the  older  town 

Where  in  his  infancy  he  saw  the  light, 

And  dreamed  in  boyhood  many  golden  dreams. 

Here  dwelt  his  father,  near  the  close  of  life, 

Bent  with  the  weight  of  toilsome  years,  and  gray, 

Still  longing  for  his  absent  son's  return, 

And  daily  praying  he  might  see  his  face, 

And  press  his  hand  once  more  ere  death  should  call. 

Full  were  his  eyes  with  tears  of  gratitude 
When  the  long  lost  returned  to  him  again, 
The  tidings  bearing  of  his  great  success 
In  the  far  country  where  the  sun  goes  down. 
Then  tenderly  the  son  cared  for  the  sire ; 
But,  slowly  sinking  day  by  day,  he  passed 
Down  the  dark  path  that  leads  to  the  unknown ; 
And,  when  the  snow  lay  round  the  cottage  door, 
Went  forth,  and  left  no  track  that  man  could  trace. 

So  McNamar  the  son  remained  at  home 
And  served  his  fatherless  and  widowed  kin, 
But  wrote  to  Annie  of  his  long  delay. 
So  many  letters  passed  between  the  two, 
His  more  infrequent  with  the  passing  months, 
Until  at  last  no  more  from  him  she  heard, 
And  still  her  love  remained  unsatisfied. 

Thus,  while  the  maiden  waited,  Abraham, 
Believing  McNamar  would  come  no  more, 
Entreated  her  that  she  become  his  wife ; 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  49 

And  as  the  villagers  beheld  the  twain, 
They  prayed  the  honest  suitor  might  prevail, 
That  he  New  Salem 's  fairest  maid  should  win. 

Then  Annie  faltered,  loving  Abraham 
Though  striving  to  be  true  to  McNamar. 
At  first  inflexible,  at  last  she  spake 
The  language  of  her  heart  and  made  reply : 
"  I  love  thee,  truest,  and  will  be  thy  bride, 
On  one  condition  ;  let  me  write  to  him 
Who  won  my  promise  in  the  years  gone  by ; 
If  he  release  me,  then  will  I  consent." 
Then  Abraham  assented,  for  he  loved 
The  girl  too  fondly  to  oppose  her  will. 
To  McNamar  she  wrote.     Days  turned  to  weeks, 
Weeks  passed  to  months,  and  still  no  answer  came. 
Then  Lincoln  triumphed  o'er  the  absent  one ; 
The  maid  consented,  and  the  town  was  glad. 

Still  poverty  deferred  the  marriage  day 
Till  he  could  win  a  home  for  the  fair  bride, 
She  waiting  patiently  while  he  declared 
That  "  nothing  on  God's  footstool "  them  could  part. 
Meanwhile  he  toiled  right  manfully  and  well. 
Then  did  he  see  in  holy  vision  clear 
The  sweetest  spot  on  earth  —  a  home  of  love 
Where  the  true  parents  with  the  children  dwell, 
And  loving  service  is  a  sacred  song. 

But  often  in  her  heart  she  felt  the  thrill 
Of  the  old  love  with  McNamar  arise. 
For  first  affection  ever  will  transcend 
In  sweet  romance  the  love  of  after  years. 

Then  from  her  cheeks  the  rose  tints  passed  away, 
While,  in  their  stead,  a  sickly  pallor  came ; 

4 


5O  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

And  many  wondered  why  the  maid  betrothed 
Should  be  so  sad  before  her  marriage  day. 

Alas !  ere  autumn  kissed  the  forest  wild 
And  left  its  hectic  glow  on  bush  and  tree, 
Too  weak  to  longer  walk  the  fields,  she  lay 
Near  to  the  window,  where  the  sere  leaves  fell, 
And  knew  they  soon  would  fall  upon  her  grave. 
E'en  then  her  kinsfolk  could  not  see  her  face, 
Lest  their  solicitude  should  weary  her ; 
Yet  to  the  nurse  she  cried  so  plaintively 
For  Abraham,  and  looked  so  wistfully, 
That  the  wise  doctor  said,  "  Bring  in  the  man, 
And  let  her  look  into  his  honest  face. 
Perchance  more  good  than  potions  it  may  do." 
So  Lincoln  came,  and  often  she  would  sing, 
For  in  her  illness  still  her  voice  was  clear, 
And  the  last  song  that  passed  the  maiden's  lips 
Was  sung  for  him,  her  lover  strong  and  true. 

Meanwhile  she  weaker  grew,  until  at  last, 
While  Abraham  was  sitting  by  her  bed, 
All  others  slipped  away  and  left  them  there 
Alone  but  with  the  unseen  angel,  Death. 
What  in  that  mystic  hour  the  maiden  said, 
What  thoughts  revealed,  what  pledge  between  them 

passed 

In  solemn  mood,  no  mortal  ever  knew  — 
The  deep  arcana  of  that  sacred  hour. 
It  was  the  final  meeting :  she  to  death, 
He  to  the  world  of  action,  sadly  went ; 
And  when  the  precious  dust  was  buried  there, 
No  greater  funeral  had  the  village  seen, 
For  all  who  knew  her  loved  her  memory. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  51 

So  deeply  then  did  the  sad  lover  mourn, 
Men  feared  his  saneness  would  be  lost  in  grief. 
Along  the  Sangamon,  in  dark  despair, 
He  walked  by  night,  and  in  the  wood  by  day, 
As  if  to  find  her  spirit's  trysting  place, 
And  hold  communion  with  the  loved  and  lost. 
So  when  the  snow  swept  o'er  her  early  grave, 
Or  murky  clouds  shed  rain  upon  the  sod, 
His  anguish  was  unspeakable  and  deep ; 
And  many  dreaded  that  in  gloom  his  hand 
Would  end  the  life  so  precious  unto  all. 
Then  to  kind  Bolin  Green  they  carried  him, 
And  hoped  new  scenes  and  changes  there  might 

bring 

Back  to  his  face  the  happy  look  he  bore, 
When  to  the  village  years  agone  he  came. 
Then  tenderly  his  friend  watched  over  him, 
And  slowly  kingly  reason  reign  resumed ; 
So,  strong  in  body,  Abraham  went  forth. 
Yet  none  who  saw  his  countenance  again 
But  read  therein  the  traces  of  his  woe. 
Years  passed  away,  and  speaking  of  her  grave 
The  strong  man  said,  "  My  heart  lies  buried  there." 


In  fame's  arena  now  he  bravely  fought ; 
Vandalia  beheld  his  great  renown, 
A  rising  star  in  the  new  world,  ordained 
To  fill  the  land  with  light  and  liberty. 

New  Salem  left,  bound  to  the  law  he  went 
To  Springfield,  where  he  won  the  hand  of  her 
Who  shared  his  fortune  and  became  his  wife, 
Though  filling  not  the  void  that  Annie  left. 


$2  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Strange  was  the  courtship  with  this  maiden  fair, 
Of  queenly  manner,  self-reliant,  proud, 
In  conversation  fluent  and  refined, 
A  brown  haired  belle,  whose  eyes  of  bluish-gray 
Sparkled  bewitchingly  or  flashed  in  rage. 
Many  there  were  who  sought  to  win  her  love, 
Among  them  Douglas,  brilliant  barrister, 
Aristocratic,  of  patrician  mien, 
The  opposite  of  Lincoln,  awkward,  plain. 
Such  were  the  rivals  for  the  maiden's  heart. 

Often  beside  her  Abraham  would  sit 
In  silent  admiration  while  she  spoke, 
Held  by  an  unseen  power,  resistless,  deep, 
Fixed  by  the  fascination  of  her  charms, 
Enchanted  by  her  presence  beautiful. 
So  unto  her  he  told  his  tale  of  love, 
While,  womanlike,  she  tortured  him  with  doubt ; 
Till,  satisfied  he  loved  her  honestly, 
Responded  with  the  word  that  made  him  glad. 
Meanwhile  had  Douglas  played  the  lover  too, 
And  more  she  loved  him  than  plain  Abraham. 
Then,  in  the  silence  of  her  soul,  she  sighed 
For  the  old  freedom  of  her  maidenhood. 
So  deeply  did  she  grieve  that  sickness  laid 
Its  blighting  hand  upon  her  queenly  brow, 
And  much  she  suffered  in  the  agony 
Of  one  whose  words  belie  the  heart's  desire. 

Then  one  who  watched  beside  her  tenderly, 
The  good  physician,  her  confessor  true, 
With  Douglas  pleaded  to  withdraw  his  suit. 
This  done  reluctantly,  by  him,  the  maid, 
Grown  strong,  looked  forward  to  her  marriage  morn. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  53 

Great  were  the  preparations  gladly  made 
By  wealth  and  beauty  for  the  bridal  day. 
That  evening,  brightly  shone  the  mansion  fair, 
Where  guests  assembled  waited  with  the  bride, 
Expectant,  watching  anxiously  the  hour 
When  he,  the  sad-faced  bridegroom,  should  appear. 
Long  he  delayed  ;  no  messenger  could  find 
The  recreant  groom.     Then,  in  her  bitterness, 
The  bride,  in  spirit  widowed,  silently 
Withdrew  to  hide  the  shame  of  injured  pride. 

Then,  when  they  found  him,  scarcely  did  they 

know 

The  man,  so  changed  he  seemed,  as  if  an  age 
Of  sorrows  had  passed  over  him  that  night. 
Plunged  in  an  awful  melancholy  deep, 
He  walked  "  a  man  of  sorrows,"  desolate. 
So  fearing  he  his  life  would  fling  away, 
All  instruments  of  death  they  safely  hid  ; 
While  he  in  dark  dejection  brooded  much, 
And  spoke  so  mournfully,  men  shook  their  heads, 
His  saneness  doubted  and  his  fate  bemoaned. 

But  Time,  the  healer  of  all  sorrows,  passed, 
And  so  there  came  a  day  when  Lincoln  met 
Once  more  with  Mary  Todd,  the  brilliant,  proud, 
And  pledged  his  love  anew,  with  strong  resolve, 
The  future  trusting  for  a  brighter  day. 
Then  in  November,  when  the  air  was  chill, 
"  Trembling  and  pale,  as  if  to  slaughter  led," 
Did  Abraham  go  forth  to  wed  his  bride, 
And  in  the  little  church  the  priest  declared, 
With  solemn  cadence,  they  were  man  and  wife. 
There  stood  old  Brown,  the  honest  frontier  judge, 
Who  said  whate'er  he  thought  without  restraint, 


54  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Accustomed  to  the  simplest  ways  of  life, 

Reared  in  an  air  of  Calvinism  cold, 

And  unfamiliar  with  the  ritual 

And  ceremony  of  the  English  church. 

He,  hearing  Abraham  slowly  recite, 

"  With  tnis  ring,  Mary,  I  thee  do  endow 

With  all  my  goods,  lands,  chattels,  tenements," 

Ejaculated  loudly  in  surprise, 

"  Why,  God  Almighty,  Lincoln,  that's  the  law ! " 

Then  passed  the  man  and  woman  through  the  door 
To  the  new  life,  in  which  they  twain  were  one 
In  sight  of  man  and  by  the  rule  of  church, 
Whate'er  the  chasm  that  between  them  yawned. 
E'en  though  she  longed  for   Douglas,  while  he 

gave 

His  spirit  to  communion  with  the  dead, 
Sweet  Annie  Rutledge,  loved  and  lost  of  yore. 


BOOK  V. 

|OW  many  were  the  combats  at  the  bar. 
Courts  owned  his  power,  and  juries  wept 

before 

The  honest  advocate,  whose  sure  defense, 
Or  plea  resistless,  was  eternal  truth. 
There  Douglas,  rival  both  in  love  and  law, 
Did  Lincoln  vanquish  with  the  sword  divine 
Of  godlike  reason,  wielded  for  the  right, 
So  that  the  "  Little  Giant "  could  not  stand, 
With  all  his  brilliant  power  and  subtlety, 
Before  the  gaunt,  ungainly  pioneer. 
Thus  was  their  future  fate  foreshadowed  then. 

Into  his  office  once  a  client  came, 
Rehearsed  his  cause  in  low  and  earnest  tones, 
Till  Lincoln,  interrupting,  thus  broke  out : 
"  Yes,  we  can  doubtless  gain  your  case  for  you ; 
Set  a  whole  neighborhood  at  loggerheads, 
Distress  a  widow  and  the  fatherless, 
The  poor  unfortunates,  and  get  for  you 
Some  hundred  dollars  and  the  legal  costs ; 
To  all  of  which  you  have  a  right  at  law, 
But  which,  by  the  eternal  equity, 
Is  hers.    Some  things  are  law  that  never  can 
Be  right.     Your  case  we  will  not  take.     This  do : 
You  are  a  sprightly,  energetic  man  ; 
Go  forth  and  make  the  money  honestly." 
Such  was  the  counsel  of  the  lawyer  just. 

To  him  came  Hannah  Armstrong  in  her  grief, 
When  the  wild  boy  her  mother  heart  so  loved 


56  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Was  tried  for  murder.     Penniless  and  sad, 

She  begged  for  counsel,  which  he  freely  gave, 

Pleading  her  cause  before  the  jury  there 

With  words  of  tender  pathos,  while  he  told 

How,  when  he  was  a  poor  and  friendless  lad, 

The  Armstrongs  kindly  took  him  to  their  home, 

Obscure  and  plain,  and  clothed  and  fed  him  there. 

Recalling  this,  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes, 

And  the  tal1,  trembling  form  grew  eloquent. 

So  with  his  words  pathetic  did  he  win 

The  hearts  of  all  the  jurors,  who  forgot 

The  crime  in  admiration  of  the  man, 

And  sa:d,  "  Not  guilty,"  of  the  luckless  boy, 

While  the  old  mother  wept  in  gratitude, 

And  gave  her  thanks  —  her  lawyer's  only  fee. 

Stronger  each  year  he  grew,  learned  and  wise ; 
So  that  in  contests  fierce  of  brain  with  brain, 
In  legislative  halls  and  courts  of  law, 
He  was  the  leader,  none  could  him  withstand  ; 
Yet  with  no  look  of  pride  in  his  sad  face 
He  marched  to  glory  with  advancing  yean-. 

-•At  last  he  turned  his  eye  to  Washington ; 
A  candidate  for  Congress  'gainst  great  odds 
Beholding  Cartwright,  preacher,  pioneer, 
A  man  of  courage  and  true  piety, 
No  mean  antagonist  in  party  strife, 
A  rival  in  the  mighty  tournament. 
The  character  of  Lincoln  none  could  doubt ; 
But  some  there  were  who,  in  their  bigotry, 
Stood  for  the  creeds  and  dogmas  of  the  past, 
Man-made  and  cruel,  God-dishonoring. 
These  sought  to  place  a  shackle  on  the  brain, 
And  said,  "All  doubt  is  of  the  devil  born." 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  57 

Such  turned  against  him,  and  refused  to  vote 
Against  the  preacher,  whom  the  multitude 
In  all  the  country  round  had  learned  to  love, 
Observing  not  that,  in  his  life  sublime, 
The  statesman  served  the  Master  like  the  priest. 

They  called  him  "skeptic,"  him  whose  faith  in 

God 

And  righteousness  was  ever  calm  and  strong ; 
Not  a  small  tribal  God  —  a  passing  phase 
In  man's  conception  of  his  Deity, 
But  the  One  God,  Soul  of  the  Universe, 
The  Presence  Immanent,  Who  guideth  all. 
Such  was  his  God,  Him  did  he  love  and  serve, 
In  deep  devotion  to  the  deathless  truth. 
In  that  unbounded  school  —  the  Universe  — 
He  learned  the  wisdom  all  alike  must  learn, 
That  selfishness  is  hell  and  discontent, 
While  sacrifice  of  self  makes  heaven  within, 
And  they  who  lose  themselves  alone  are  saved 
He  lived  the  life  of  love  to  God  and  man, 
The  mark  of  true  religion  in  all  times  — 
The  world's  immortal  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
Proclaimed  alike  by  Buddha  and  the  Christ  — 
The  message  of  the  master  spirits  all : 
Beholding  with  a  prophet's  vision  clear 
The  advent  of  a  far-off  better  day 
When  love  shall  triumph  over  selfishness, 
Dream  of  the  good  in  every  age  and  clime. 

Into  his  honest  heart  there  brightly  shone 
A  revelation  of  the  Will  Divine; 
Within  his  soul  he  heard  the  voice  of  God, 
Clairaudient  to  the  Eternal  word ; 
He  saw  the  good  alike  in  old  and  new ; 


58  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

The  wheat  he  garnered,  left  the  wind  the  chaff. 
His  Bible  was  the  boundless  universe, 
His  Pentecost  the  long,  long  age  of  man. 

True  to  the  inspiration  of  his  day, 
He  stood  a  servant  of  the  God  Most  High, 
And  wrought  sublimely  out  the  Father's  will, 
As  he  beheld  it  through  his  conscience  clear. 
Ages  shall  know  he  did  what  seemed  the  right. 
He  heard  the  words,  "  Go  forward !  "  and  obeyed, 
Though  death  lay  in  the  path  of  duty  stern. 

The  contest  ended,  Lincoln  stood  elect, 
And,  in  the  halls  of  Congress,  grandly  won 
New  laurels  in  his  wreath  of  deathless  fame. 

Then  came  the  days  of  tribulation  great ; 
Big  were  the  years  with  awful  issues  fraught, 
Dark  war-clouds  gathered  in  the  murky  sky ; 
'Twixt  North  and  South,  in  hate,  the  conflict  waged, 
Above  the  field  of  liberty  for  man. 
Wise  men  there  were  who  stoutly  did  maintain 
That  to  the  master  should  conceded  be 
The  right  to  take  his  slave  where'er  he  list 
And  hold  him  still  a  bondsman.     'Twas  averred 
By  some  the  boundless  West  must  ever  be 
Exposed  to  the  accursed  system  old, 
Black  with  the  guilt  of  ages  numberless, 
If  so  the  state  expressed  its  sovereign  will. 
In  Douglas  these  a  mighty  leader  found, 
Magnetic,  dashing,  brilliant,  powerful, 
A  master  in  the  subtleties  of  words. 
Then  there  were  those  who  hated  slavery, 
But  loved  the  Constitution,  grand  and  old, 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  59 

Who  taught  the  Union  dear  must  be  maintained, 
Whate'er  the  price  of  unity  might  be, 
The  West  to  freedom  wholly  consecrate, 
Wherein  no  man  should  own  his  fellow  man. 
Of  such  was  Lincoln,  firm,  invincible. 


The  matchless  contest  came  to  Illinois. 
Here  Lincoln  fought  with  Douglas  hand  to  hand, 
And  built  his  arguments  impregnable 
Upon  the  rocks  of  everlasting  truth, 
The  sword  of  logic  wielding  with  the  clear 
Unerring  aim  of  him  who  sees  the  right, 
And  seeing,  dares  to  bravely  strike  the  blow. 
Never  in  all  the  earth  was  such  a  strife  ; 
There  spirit  fought  with  spirit,  soul  with  soul, 
Mind  grappled  mind,  in  the  contention  deep, 
To  solve  the  problem  of  the  age  sublime ; 
Till  they  who  listened  fancied  that  they  stood 
On  high  Olympus  where  the  gods  contend. 

At  Bloomington  there  fell  upon  the  man 
A  light  from  the  eternal  Throne  of  Truth, 
A  brightness  such  as  the  Apostle  saw, 
Who  erst  had  slain  the  saints  of  the  Most  High 
Near  by  Damascus,  where  the  angel  stood ; 
A  revelation  from  the  Infinite. 
Such  the  conviction  that  to  Lincoln  came, 
Whereat  his  tongue  was  loosed,  and  lo !  he  spake 
As  one  who  breathes  the  living  word  of  God, 
His  eyes  afire  with  inspiration  deep, 
His  heart  aglow  with  equity  and  love. 
In  melting  pathos  plead  he  for  the  slave, 
While  in  the  tempest  of  his  wrath  he  cursed 
The  burning  sin  of  bondage  bitterly. 


60  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

On  Galesburg  never  dawned  so  grand  a  day, 
Or  one  so  truly  memorable,  as  that 
When  "  Honest  Abe  "  the  "  Little  Giant "  met 
In  hot  debate  and  manly  argument. 
The  heavens  were  somber,  cold  the  wind  and  ra\v 
Yet  thousands  came  from  all  the  land  around, 
In  patience  standing,  if  they  could  but  hear 
The  great  opponents  or  their  faces  see  ; 
So  deeply  did  they  feel  for  Fatherland 
And  think  upon  the  issues  of  the  hour. 
Here  Lincoln  spoke  with  power  and  eloquence, 
Such  as  old  Rome  and  Athens  never  heard, 
In  the  dear  cause  of  human  liberty. 

Lo !  flamed  Donati's  comet  in  the  sky, 
Weird  visitor  from  far-off  realms  unknown, 
As  if  the  Power  that  moves  the  universe 
And  shapes  the  course  of  nations  would  display 
In  the  celestial  arch  an  oriflamme 
To  sign  the  advent  of  that  glorious  light  — 
"  Lone  Star  of  Illinois  "  —  ascendant  then. 
Oh,  if  from  interstellar  space  again 
The  blazing  star  look  on  the  world  below, 
Ne'er  shall  its  rays  fall  on  a  truer  man, 
The  second  Nestor  of  America, 
Who  walked  the  earth,  and  lives  among  the  stars. 

Thus,  from  each  contest,  Abraham  came  forth 
Triumphantly  and  panoplied  with  power, 
Like  him  who  at  Peniel  did  contend 
And  with  an  angel  wrestled,  saith  the  Book. 
So  did  he  pass  in  majesty  along 
The  orbit  of  his  awful  destiny. 

Then  spread  his  fame  o'er  all  the  land  afar, 
Their  champion  millions  did  in  him  behold ; 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  6 1 

Ne'er  was  a  king  more  fondly  loved  than  he 

By  those  who  in  his  solemn  face  beheld 

The  image  of  the  Father  Infinite, 

A  son  of  God  with  destiny  sublime. 

So  when  the  crisis  came  for  them  to  choose 

A  leader  for  the  nation,  tried  and  true, 

With  one  accord  they  turned  to  Abraham, 

Ordained  of  God,  devoutly  they  believed, 

To  lead  them  through  the  dreadful  wilderness. 

Oh,  who  shall  pen  the  record  of  those  days, 
When  brother  fought  with  brother,  and  the  land 
Was  red  with  blood  and  full  of  bitterness, 
And  Armageddon  seemed  on  earth  begun  ? 
Ne'er  was  so  fearful  conflict  seen  below. 
The  ages  looked  from  out  the  unknown  past, 
The  world  beheld  the  awful  contest  big 
With  destiny  —  the  verdict  of  the  race. 

There,  unseen  by  the  feeble  eye  of  flesh, 
That  sees  the  smoke  above  the  millions  rise, 
The  march  of  men,  the  carnage,  and  the  blood, 
Unheard  by  ears  that  hear  the  cannon  boom, 
The  cry  of  death,  the  shout  of  victory, 
The  old  contended  fiercely  with  the  new ; 
The  right  divine  of  kings,  with  liberty ; 
The  tyrant  with  the  freeman  did  contend. 
There,  godlike  in  his  calmness,  Lincoln  stood, 
While  war  and  anarchy  about  him  raged, 
And  social  chaos  seemed  so  imminent 
That  all  who  loved  the  Union  stood  aghast, 
The  issue  fearing  of  the  deadly  fray. 

And  thus  he  piloted  the  Ship  of  State 
So  grandly  through  the  tempest  wild  and  long, 
Steering  his  course  by  the  eternal  stars 


62  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Of  truth  and  duty,  equity  and  right, 

No  ruler  owning  but  the  Infinite. 

He  heard  the  voice  of  God  within  him  speak 

The  higher  law  that  makes  for  righteousness. 

He  felt  the  common  brotherhood  of  man, 

Born  of  the  fatherhood  of  God,  and  loved 

The  most  depraved  and  weakest  of  the  race. 

So  when  he  saw  the  path  of  duty  plain, 
With  the  majestic  mien  of  one  who  stands 
In  the  effulgence  of  the  Absolute, 
And  hears  the  voice  of  God  speak  the  command, 
And  hearing,  walks  obediently  thereto, 
He  spake  the  word  that  set  the  millions  free 
And  banished  from  the  New   World  slavery. 

Dumb  with  the  ecstasy  of  freedom  found, 
In  him  the  poor  untutored  slave  beheld 
A  second  Moses,  sent  from  God  on  High, 
To  lead  the  people  out  of  bondage  dark 
Into  the  light  of  liberty  and  law. 
So  in  their  crude  but  heartfelt  thankfulness 
They  gathered  'round   him,  hailed  him  as   their 

Christ, 

Their  great  Redeemer,  praying  God  to  bless 
The  "  Massa  President,"  and  weeping  tears 
Of  gratitude,  unspeakable,  profound. 


EMANCIPATION      STATUE,      BOSTON,      MASSACHUSETTS. 


BOOK  VI. 

H,  what  a  galaxy  of  friends  had  he ! 
A  constellation  of  great,  godlike  minds : 
The  peerless  Sumner,  strong  and  tmcorrupt, 
Who  walked  the  Senate  with  unblemished  robe, 
And  fell  the  martyr  of  a  righteous  cause  ; 
The  rich-souled  Beecher,  priest  of  the  Most  High, 
Who  spake  as  with  an  angel's  eloquence, 
Friend  of  humanity,  the  full-orbed  man  ; 
Fremont  and  Phillips,  Lovejoy,  Garrison, 
The  grand  apostles  of  sweet  liberty, 
Who  dared  to  face  the  calumny  and  scorn 
Of  wealth  and  power  for  the  poor  shackled  slave  ; 
The  outcasts  of  their  day,  now  canonized, 
Forsaken  then,  now  lauded  rightfully, 
Whose  statues    honored   stand  where    they   were 

mobbed  — 

These  stayed  his  lifted  hands  for  liberty ; 
The  noble  spirits  in  his  cabinet ; 
The  mighty  heroes,  Sherman,  Sheridan, 
And  great  Ulysses, —  that  true  trinity 
Of  martial  men  whose  deeds  shall  ages  sing ; 
And  the  Grand  Army  of  the  loyal  brave, 
Who  offered  life  itself  to  save  the  land  ; 
With  noble  women  who,  in  lonely  homes, 
Prayed  for  the  triumph  of  the  Union  hosts, 
And  wrought  the  answer  of  the  earnest  prayer 
By  lives  of  consecration,  deep,  sincere. 


64  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

O  precious  Freedom,  such  the  multitude 
Whom  Lincoln  led  in  thy  sweet,  holy  name 
Through  awful  tribulation  to  success, 
Through  depths  of  dark  despair  to  victory  ! 
Ay,  never  beat  a  braver  heart  than  his, 
And  yet  so  merciful ;  he  hated  war, 
And  sought  the  greater  victory  of  peace. 
With  words  of  sympathy,  with  tears  of  love 
And  grief,  with  passionate  appeal,  he  urged 
His  brothers  to  lay  down  the  arms  of  strife, 
And  dwell  together  in  fraternal  love. 

Not  like  the  warriors  of  the  older  days, 
Who  fought  for  conquest  and  the  victor's  crown, 
For  carnage  lusting  in  their  cruelty, 
Their  castles  building  on  the  graves  of  men, 
He  fought  but  to  insure  a  lasting  peace ; 
He  drew  the  weapon  but  to  cleave  the  chain  ; 
His  the  crusade  for  Law  and  Liberty. 

So  when  the  task  Herculean  was  done, 
Unlike  Napoleon,  the  slave  of  self, 
With  crushed  ambition,  back  from  Waterloo 
Bearing  the  story  of  his  overthrow, 
But  with  the  benediction  of  the  age 
Resting  upon  him,  did  he  gladly  go 
Forth  to  the  seat  of  honor,  blessing  God 
For  the  sweet  calm  and  the  dear  Union  saved. 
So  was  he  great  in  war,  as  great  in  peace, 
The  savior  of  his  nation,  friend  of  man. 

Then  did  he  hope  to  walk  in  tranquil  ways, 
In  peaceful  paths  of  civic  life ;  to  spend 
With  those  he  loved  the  autumn  of  his  years, 
In  the  sweet  joy  of  duty  truly  done, 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  65 

In  the  fruition  of  his  highest  hope  — 

The  good  of  the  dear  land  he  loved  so  well. 

The  dark  presentiment  that  twice  had  come 
To  her  who  loved  him  tenderly  and  well, 
His  second  mother,  o'er  him  threw  its  shade, 
The  solemn  forecast  of  the  awful  fate, 
The  earthly  destiny  toward  which  he  moved. 
In  somber  mood,  his  eye  prophetic  saw 
The  karma  of  his  tragic  horoscope ; 
He  walked  as  one  who  hears  the  knell  of  doom 
Forever  striking  on  the  harp  of  life. 

Then  came  the  day  that  man  will  ne'er  forget 
While  love  of  freedom  dwells  within  the  breast, 
The  blackest,  saddest,  since  on  Calvary 
The  Holy  Son  of  God  was  sacrificed 
And  darkness  fell  upon  the  earth  below, 
While  angels  wept  above  the  cruel  cross. 

It  was  the  springtime,  and  the  fields  were  glad 
With  a  fair  radiance,  such  as  limners  give 
To  the  blest  Eden,  where,  the  legends  say, 
God  walked  with  man  when  the  round  world  was 

young, 
Ere  rested  on  the  land  the  bitter  curse. 

Such  was  the  day  when  with  unwonted  joy, 
Unconscious  that  his  mission  here  was  done, 
The  man  of  doom  went  forth  to  destiny, 
The  burden  lifted  from  his  weary  heart, 
That  held  no  malice  toward  his  enemies, 
Beholding  through  the  rifted  clouds  of  war 
The  blessed  advent  of  the  reign  of  peace. 
Oh,  strange  that  in  the  drama  of  a  world 
Judas  should  follow  in  the  wake  of  Christ ; 

5 


66  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

That  He  who  meekly  walked  the  weary  way 

In  Palestine  and  by  Gennesaret, 

Who  healed  the  sick  and  spoke  the  words  of  peace 

To  troubled  souls,  the  fallen  lifting  up, 

Bearing  the  burdens  of  His  fellow  men, 

And  doing  good  to  all  —  ah,  strange  that  He 

Should  tread  the  winepress  of  deep  agony. 

Yet  not  alone  He  walked,  the  Man  Divine  ; 

The  long  procession  of  heroic  dead 

Are  His  companions,  and  all  noble  souls 

In  every  age  Gethsemane  have  found. 

So  Lincoln  stood  in  the  gay  theater, 
A  solemn  figure  in  the  merry  throng 
Who  hailed  his  advent  with  a  cry  of  joy, 
The  mighty  hero  of  a  glorious  age, — 
While  the  death  angel,  all  invisible, 
Walked  by  his  side,  and  marked  the  day  of  doom. 

An  hour  passed  by.     Beguiled  by  pleasing  art, 
The  thoughtful  statesman  watched  the  moving  play 
A  kind  nepenthe  to  the  weary  soul, 
A  respite  to  the  eyes  that  long  had  gazed 
Upon  the  drama  of  an  awful  war, 
Big  with  the  fate  of  freedom  for  the  world. 

Then  nonchalantly  the  assassin  came, 
Looked  at  the  stage  with  seeming  interest, 
Beheld,  beneath  the  flag,  the  President 
Beloved  by  millions,  loving  all  mankind, 
A  smile  celestial  resting  on  his  face  ; 
Then  swiftly  sped  with  hellish  zeal  along 
The  path  of  sin  smoothed  by  conspirators 
Into  the  presence  of  the  man  beloved, 
With  the  deep  hatred  of  a  frenzied  soul, 
That  longed  to  kill,  with  thirst  insatiate. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  67 

An  instant,  and  the  awful  deed  was  done. 
The  martyr  fell,  while  the  assassin  bold 
Leaped  to  the  stage.     His  glistening  spur,  mean 
while, 

Caught  in  the  blessed  banner  of  the  free 
That  marked  the  place  wherein  his  victim  lay, 
Whereat  he  fell,  and,  falling,  cursed  the  flag ; 
Then    wounded     rose,     brandished    his    dagger, 

shrieked, 

"  Sic  semper  tyrannis  !  "  then  fled  like  Cain, 
With  the  deep  mark  of  guilt  upon  his  brow, 
While  cried  the  blood  of  innocence  to  God. 


Then  the  fierce  anger  of  the  nation  raged 

Against  the  murderer  relentlessly. 

"  There  was  no  waste  so  wide,  no  cave  so  deep, 

As  to  give  him  a  hiding-place  secure," 

And  daily,  as  he  fled,  his  strength  grew  less. 

Freighted  with  curses  multitudinous, 

The  very  air  seemed  poisonous  to  him ; 

He  was  an  outcast  in  his  native  land  ; 

Men,  wild  with  fury,  sought  to  take  his  life, 

Ambitious  to  avenge  the  martyred  one, 

Who,  had  he  spoken  from  the  spirit  world, 

Had  prayed  the  prayer  of  the  sweet  Nazarene, 

"  Father,  forgive  them,"  in  that  tenderness, 

The  difference  'twixt  a  savage  and  a  Christ. 

At  last,  the  felon  in  a  barn  they  found, 
Still  mad  with  frenzy  and  defiant  still, 
Unwilling  to  surrender,  so  they  fired 
The  building,  while  the  wretched  man  remained, 
Beholding  death  in  tragic  ecstasy, 
As  one  who  glories  in  the  end  of  life. 


68  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

"  His  eyes,  with  terror  lustrous,  rolled  and  swelled 

In  beauty  terrible  ;  his  forehead  high 

Was  bloodless  with  the  pallor  of  despair." 

He  cursed  his  captors  as  he  stood  at  bay, 

And  raised  his  carbine  with  the  last  resolve 

Of  death  ;  then  fell,  rebellious  to  the  end; 

And  died,  tragedian  in  an  awful  act, 

His  dust  reposing  in  a  nameless  grave, 

Touched  by  the  holy  mystery  of  death. 


Oh,  who  shall  read  the  scroll  of  history, 
And  judge  the  actors  in  the  play  of  years  ? 
We  backward  gaze  and  see  how  some  went  forth 
Triumphantly  in  what  they  thought  the  will 
Of  Him  whose  purpose  none  can  ever  thwart. 
Of  such,  we  say  they  were  successful,  great ; 
We  glorify  their  deeds  in  eulogy, 
And  rear  our  monuments  unto  their  fame  ; 
We  sing  their  paeans  in  majestic  verse 
And  generations  bless  their  memory. 
Tis  well.     But  what  of  the  misguided  souls  ? 
Alas,  they  followed  what  appeared  to  them 
The  true  and  living  light.     'Twas  but  the  gleam 
Of  baleful  exhalations  treacherous ; 
A  will-o'-the-wisp,  alluring  to  destroy ; 
An  ignis  fatuus  that  led  them  on 
Into  sepulchral  darkness,  and  was  lost 
Above  the  marshes  and  unfathomed  mire 
Where  corpses  rest.     The  light  that  marks  the  dead 
They  saw,  and  followed  to  destruction  dire  ; 
Mistook  the  comet  for  the  constant  star ; 
Veered  from  the  path  of  safety  and  were  lost. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  69 

Oh,  what  of  these,  the  honest  ones,  but  wrong, 

Who  piped  the  tones  discordant  in  their  day, 

Yet  heard  no  discord  in  their  listening  ears  ? 

Oh,  what  of  them  ?    Is  there  no  anthem  still 

For  them  to  sing  ?    Is  there  no  light  to  fall 

Upon  their  path  ?    Yea,  we  may  hope  that  He, 

Omniscient  Spirit  of  the  universe, 

Who  plans  in  wisdom,  loses  not  one  soul ; 

And  they  who  seem  to  sink  in  darksome  night 

Shall  come  at  last  into  the  perfect  day, 

And  sing  the  harmony  that  is  to  be  ; 

So  what  seemed  wrong  prove  but  a  part  of  right 

In  the  great  scope  of  cycles  infinite. 

Call  these  not  lost — no  soul  is  lost,  to  God. 


Then  fell  an  awful  sorrow  o'er  the  land, 
As  though  the  sun  had  set  at  noontide  hour. 
The  reign  of  death, —  a  wail  in  every  home ; 
Bells  tolled  the  nation's  loss,  the  flag  drooped  low, 
"  Men  met  in  silence,  pressed  the  hand  and  wept," 
The  mart  was  still,  and  trade  and  pleasure  dumb. 
In  North  and  South,  forgetting  party  strife, 
Great  throngs  assembled  as  with  one  consent, 
While  orators  rehearsed  the  tragic  tale 
And  dwelt  upon  the  virtues  of  the  dead. 
So  never  mourned  a  nation  of  the  earth 
With  lamentations  deep  and  agonized, 
In  all  the  ages  of  historic  time. 

Then  westward  tenderly  they  bore  the  dust, 
"  States  his  pallbearers,"  and  the  anthem  sung 
By  deep-toned  cannon,  as  from  place  to  place, 
The  vast  cortege  moved  on  in  solemn  state, 
From  Washington  to  Springfield,  his  old  home. 


70  A    MAN    OF    DESTINY. 

Here  in  the  hall  where  years  before  he  hurled 
His  accusations  against  slavery 
They  placed  the  body  of  the  honored  dead, 
That  they  who  knew  him  ere  the  nation  claimed 
His  precious  presence  might  look  once  again 
Upon  the  deeply  furrowed  countenance, 
With  all  the  people  in  their  bitter  woe. 

There  all  the  day  and  through  the  solemn  night 
The  long  procession  passed  that  silent  form, 
A  motley  throng  from  all  the  walks  of  life, 
The  rich  and  poor,  the  high  and  low  alike, 
Together  melted  in  the  common  grief. 
Then  on  the  morrow,  while  sweet  voices  sang 
"  Peace,  Troubled  Soul,"  gently  the  casket  lid 
They  closed  forever,  and  bore  thence  the  dead 
To  Oak  Ridge,  and  laid  down  the  precious  dust, 
While  millions  mourned  and  blessed  his  memory. 


Call  him  not  dead,  the  hero  cannot  die  ; 
His  a  renown  imperishable,  wide, 
The  grandest  since  the  lowly  Nazarene 
Walked  calmly  from  the  Kingship  to  the  Cross, 
In  self-renunciation,  full,  divine. 
He  leadeth  now  in  the  resplendent  host 
Of  martyred  ones,  whose  blood  is  eloquent 
For  the  emancipation  of  the  race 
From  every  form  of  slavery  and  sin, 
For  the  true  life  of  love  and  liberty. 
Such  cannot  die ;  they  live  f orevermore 
In  the  dear  story  of  humanity, 
Transfigured  on  the  mount  of  gratitude, 
And  their  true  spirits  upward  move,  we  trust, 


*  • 


iMiiil 


THE  PERRY  PICTURES.       1421. 
BOSTON  EDITION. 


AUGUSTUS  ST.-GAUDENS. 
COPYRIGHT,   1898,   BY  EUGENE  A.  PERRY. 


STATUE     OF    LINCOLN,     LINCOLN     PARK,    CHICAGO. 


STORY    OF    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  J\ 

To  higher  forms  of  life,  in  the  sublime 
Arena  of  the  ages  infinite. 

O  mighty  spirit,  let  the  ages  sing 
Thy  requiem  and  aeons  chant  thy  praise. 
'Tis  holy  ground  whereon  thy  feet  have  trod 
Obediently  the  path  of  duty  hard, 
Whereto  He  called  thee,  valiant  son  of  God. 
Thine  was  the  grander  faith,  the  wider  hope, 
That  right  shall  triumph  over  waning  wrong, 
That  sin  shall  perish,  and  the  universe 
Be  purified,  and  God  be  All  in  All. 
And  so,  like  Moses  through  the  wilderness, 
Thou  ledst  a  people  to  the  land  of  peace, 
The  heritage  of  freedom,  blessed  boon ; 
And  thy  keen  eye  beheld  the  brighter  day, 
The  vision  of  a  Union  saved,  secure, 
The  fair  Republic,  pride  of  all  the  earth, 
Yet  might  not  enter,  for  the  Father  called 
Thy  spirit  to  the  better  land  unseen. 


Farewell,  O  noble  son  of  God,  farewell ! 
In  that  bright  sphere  where  passion  may  not  bide, 
The  fleshly  limitations  swept  away, 
No  taint  of  ill  to  thy  true  soul  can  come, 
Pure  spirit,  in  the  realm  of  the  Great  Power 
Whose  purpose  through  the  ages  slowly  makes 
For  righteousness,  which  thou  didst  truly  love. 
Pass  to  the  empyrean  heights  —  Farewell ! 


"A  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

l^tanj  0f  Afaraljam  Idutrnltt 


" 


By  ERNEST  L.  STAPLES 

Of  the  Fairfield  County,  Connecticut,  Bar 

:HIS  book  is  printed  on  fine  quality  of  paper, 
contains  71  pages  5j£x8  inches;  also  four 
full  page  illustrations;  and  sells  at  retail,  in  paper 
binding,  at  75  cents;  in  cloth  $1.00,  and  in  art  leather, 
silk  lining,  $2.00.  Sent,  postage  prepaid,  on  receipt 
of  price.  Address, 

LINCOLN   PUBLISHING   CO., 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  TESTIMONIALS 

Some  of  the  lines  ought  to  become  epigrams.  They  say  so  well  what 
we  feel. 

Let  your  publishers  say  that  I  have  read  the  book  with  great  pleasure, 
and  hope  it  may  have  a  wide  circulation. 

EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE,  D.D.,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

In  your  little  book  you  have  told  —  and  told  well  —  the  pathetic,  tragic, 
wonderful,  inspiring  story  of  the  life  of  Lincoln. 

HON.    DAVID   TORRANCE, 
Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Conn. 

I  have  read  it  with  sincere  interest,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  that  it 
has  come  into  the  hands  of  many  others. 

BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON, 
Principal  Tuskegee  Normal  and  Industrial  Institute. 

An   inspiring  story,    most    graphically   told.      It   is    full    of   touching   senti 
ment,  yet  at  all  times  true  to  life.  W.  A.   SMITH, 

Supt.  Public  Instruction,  Poughkeepsie,  N.   Y. 

It  sketches  the  life  of  the  great  good  man  in  verse  as  simple  and  artless 
as  a  child's  speech  and  as  musical  as  children's  voices.  In  this  telling,  the 
wonderful  romance  of  the  story  is  well  developed,  and  love  and  reverence 
for  our  nation's  hero  breathes  from  every  page. 

From   the   Holyoke  Library  Record,  November,   1903. 

I  shall  read  it  again  —  a  thing  I  do  not  often  do  in  this  age  of  many 
books  and  many  activities.  ELIZABETH  PORTER  GOULD,  Author, 

Boston,   Mass. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
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